


When Things Come Back

by midnightswordsdance



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Linear Narrative, Partner Betrayal, just a smidge, the space vigilante AU no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightswordsdance/pseuds/midnightswordsdance
Summary: Mingyu was fine with it. Minghao's betrayal, the aftermath. Eating alone, sleeping alone, breathing alone. Everything was fine.Until one day, Minghao came back, not in his Thief Union uniform, but in chains.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This AU has been in the works since literally July, and this is at least my fourth attempt to try to get it right (it's literally called Space Vigilante Fanfic 4.0 in my notes). It's cycled through being an established relationship 5+1 fic, a slice of life fic, and an action-packed drama-type thing, but after grappling with it for literally forever, this is what I have. I think there's going to be two more chapters after this, so stay tuned for more! Hope you enjoy.
> 
> The title is from the book "When Things Come Back" by John Corey Whaley.

**I**

**~**

**NOW**

It was early in the morning, early enough that it could still be considered night, when Mingyu heard that Minghao was back on Pledis.

He knew this not because someone had told him secondhand, or because Minghao had told him himself (not that they talked anymore), but because as he was starting to pull into Pledis’s orbit, he saw a big, no, _gigantic_ Thief Union ship coming into orbit as well, one of the armored ones that Han, the Thief Union’s leader, only used for very dangerous occasions. 

Mingyu was senior enough in the Union now to know when dangerous occasions were happening, and despite being only one person, Minghao was more of a threat to the Thief Union than even the Hegemon of Earth himself.

The Union ship made a signal to Mingyu to let them pass first, but it only made Mingyu arrive a few minutes later than he would have. As soon as he landed, he jumped out of his ship, running down to the west shipyard, where he knew the other ship landed.

As he’d expected, there was already a crowd of people watching the ramp come down. A team of well-armed Thief Union guards came down first, kneeling at the front of the ramp, pointing their guns straight inside. Then, two of Han’s personal guards descended down the ramp, with their suits and frankly cheesy sunglasses. One of them made a signal to the other guards inside, beckoning them out.

And then, there was Minghao.

He didn’t really look much like himself; there was a blindfold tied over his eyes, and his hands were bound by two different sets of handcuffs. His legs were tied together with military-grade rope, and he was gagged. But even though there were a handful of guards pushing him off the ship, and he was completely disarmed, Minghao still managed to stand proud, his posture still as confident as usual. 

“Traitor!” Someone shouted from the crowd. Minghao whipped his head in the voice’s direction, as much as he could, managing to give a look of distaste despite not having the use of his eyes or mouth. “Scumbag!” said someone else. “Son of a bitch!” Another.

Mingyu said nothing. He couldn’t have if he’d tried. But somehow, Minghao still had a sixth sense for knowing where Mingyu was. Minghao’s head snapped right to where Mingyu was standing, and he stopped dead in his tracks. The guard prompted him to keep walking, but he stood strong, pushing back against the guard’s hand. Despite the blindfold, it felt like Minghao was staring straight into his soul. Mingyu’s heart stopped beating for just a second, air shoved back down his windpipe.

And then, it was over as quickly as it began. Minghao turned away from him, continuing his march out of the shipyard, at least fifteen guards in tow.

The crowd began to dissipate, seemingly satisfied with the sight of Minghao chained up for once. Mingyu went back to his ship to do repairs, trying not to think about how when they were still partners, they used to do them together. 

_You were manipulated_ , Han had said, and all of the specialists he’d been forced to go to after Minghao’s betrayal was found out. _Who Minghao really is and who your partner was are different people_.

But even shuffling through the shipyard completely tied up, with his clothes torn most likely from struggling to get away, he was exactly the same as he’d used to be. Proud, strong, and unafraid.

~

**THEN**

They met for the first time at Mingyu’s first day at the Thief Union Academy, wide-eyed and seven years old and impressed by all of the fancy equipment. 

Since he was five, this had been his dream. Back in his bedroom on Earth, there were posters of the greatest Union spaceships up on his walls, including his father’s, Carnage. He was basically guaranteed a spot because his father had been close with Han before he died, but even so, he trained every day, trying to pickpocket his mother and other random people on the street. He would tell anyone who would listen that he was going to be the next great Thief Union pilot, even if he was shunned and labeled a delinquent for it.

But now, he was here at Pledis, the Thief Union’s base planet, and it was time to make his dream a reality.

The first day was relatively uneventful, just some orientation information and a tour of the Academy. Mingyu was practically jumping up and down with exhilaration as they saw the training rooms and the four shipyards, the research center and the big courtyard with all of its artificial grass. He asked tons and tons of questions, almost to the point where Han, who was leading the tour, looked like he was going to slap him.

There were ten or so other people in his group, but he tried to say hello to all of them, learning their favorite colors and their hometowns, even the ones who were surly. That’s how happy he was.

That night, when he lay in his new bed in the cadet dorms (top bunk, of course, since he wanted to be able to see everything down below), he thought about all of the things he wanted to do, all of the things he wanted to go back and look at the next morning. He was so excited, he couldn’t sleep, even after he could see all of the other lights in the Academy go out through the window looking out at the courtyard.

Suddenly, he heard a quiet sniffle from the bunk below him. He didn’t think much of it at first, but then there was another one and a third. Then he heard a choked sob, quickly muffled by a pillow. 

He tried to tip his head over the railing to find out who it was, but he couldn’t go far enough to see without toppling over, so he quietly climbed down the ladder.

It was the smallest, scrawniest boy from his group, curled up in a ball around his pillow. He was so tiny that he only really took up half of the bed. As soon as he saw Mingyu looking at him, though, he shot straight up, making Mingyu nearly fall off the ladder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The boy asked sharply, peering through one of the rungs in the ladder warily.

“Are you okay?” said Mingyu. “It sounded like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying,” the boy muttered. He tried to discreetly wipe a tear from his eye, but Mingyu noticed it anyway.

Mingyu hopped off the ladder and walked around the bedpost to come closer. The boy started shuffling farther back against the wall to get away from him. “Are you sure?” Mingyu asked. “It’s okay to cry if you’re homesick. My mama always says that it’s best to cry it all out instead of holding in all your feelings.”

The boy shook his head, face furrowing into a scowl. “I don’t need you to coddle me. I’m not homesick. I don’t even know you.”

Mingyu frowned, confused. “I know. It just seemed like you were upset.”

“Look,” said the boy, “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me on your side so that you can do the best out of all of us. You’ve been kissing the asses of everyone you’ve seen today.” 

He sat up further, looking Mingyu straight in the eye, red eyes and stuffy nose and all. Mingyu was taken aback—he’d barely even noticed this kid in the group before, but it seemed like the boy had been watching him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know what I mean,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. It was hard to reconcile the boy that had been crying underneath his bed with the boy that was speaking to him now. “Saying hi to everyone. Asking all of those questions I _know_ you know the answers to. Maybe it’ll work on Han, but it won’t work on me.” 

Mingyu just stared at him, feeling a little bewildered. The boy squinted at him for a few uncomfortable seconds before his shoulders relaxed a little. “Oh,” said the boy, like it was an extension of a sigh. “That was mean, wasn’t it?”

“A little,” said Mingyu, feeling like pouting.

The boy sighed again as if he were carrying some heavy burden. “I just don’t like other people seeing me cry, okay?”

Mingyu thought about it for a moment. “Okay. I’m Mingyu, by the way,” he said, sticking his hand out for a handshake. 

“I’m Minghao,” said the boy, taking his hand and shaking it once. For just a moment, Mingyu thought he could see a smile on his face. 

And from that night onward, they were friends. Best friends. Partners-in-crime. Partners.

~

**NOW**

It only took a little asking around to figure out where Minghao was being held. He knew Han was going to try his hardest to keep Mingyu away from him, but Mingyu was older now and it was much easier for him to get away with things.

Mingyu didn’t really frequent the prison area too much; it wasn’t like it was used very much anyway since the Thief Union usually outsourced their hostages to more remote locations. Still, it wasn’t difficult to access the maximum-security area with his badge, and even easier to find Minghao, who was the only prisoner there.

The cell was one of those new, high-tech ones with transparent electronic barriers instead of standard jail bars. Visitors and prison guards could go in and out as they pleased, but the prisoner could not. It seemed like the Union had been treating Minghao well, too, since he had a big king-sized bed and a bunch of books stacked up near the nightstand. He was unchained, with newer, nicer clothes, and he looked much cleaner.

He knew this tactic—they were trying to butter him up so that he would be more likely to spill something about the government. Mingyu knew Minghao was better than that, though.

Mingyu was almost shocked by how relieved he felt, seeing Minghao again, looking completely unscathed despite being in a prison cell. The part of him that was still hanging onto what they used to be was glad that Minghao was still alive. But there was anger, too, terrible rage and _pain_. He wasn’t sure how exactly to feel.

“Tell them I’m not going to tell them anything about my contacts, so they should just leave me alone,” Minghao mumbled without looking up when he heard Mingyu come through the barrier.

“I’m not here for that,” said Mingyu. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Oh.” At the sound of Mingyu’s voice, Minghao sat up, looking more earnest. “I was hoping I’d get to see you,” Minghao continued with a smile. He had always been good at acting like everything was normal. Mingyu took a seat on the couch opposite him, keeping a hand on his gun in case he needed it. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

He wasn’t wrong - Mingyu couldn’t remember how long it’d been since they’d seen each other. After he’d learned about what Minghao had done, everything had turned into a blur of _How did this happen?_ and _What did I do wrong?_ and _Why? Why? Why, Minghao?_

“Sure it has,” Mingyu replied wryly. “Not from a lack of effort on my part.” 

Minghao pretended to ignore Mingyu’s comment, though he pursed his lips together for just a second. He closed his book and placed it next to him on the bed. “You look well.”

He didn’t, he knew that. Flying solo and trying to fix the gaping hole Minghao had left in his heart had changed him, made him more paranoid and exhausted. As it was, he was tired, skin stretched too far over his bones, shorter hair making him look older. 

“I’ve been…” Mingyu looked away. “I’ve been alright.”

“I thought you might be angrier at me,” Minghao said casually, crossing one leg over the other. “You were always one to hold a grudge, weren’t you?”

Something about the word _always_ rubbed Mingyu the wrong way. It made it seem like nothing had changed since the betrayal. “I just want to know why you did it,” Mingyu blurted out suddenly. He didn’t say, _Do you know how it felt to know you were out there by yourself, where I didn’t know if you were in danger? Do you know how it felt to carry on alone? Do you know how many nights I stayed up, wondering how long you had been planning this without me knowing?_ “What made you change?”

It was a futile attempt at closure, he knew. If Minghao hadn’t trusted him enough to talk to him then, there was even less reason for him to talk now. 

The careful nonchalance in Minghao’s body expression slowly bled out of him, replaced with stiff formality. “I never changed,” he said simply. “The only thing that changed was that I realized I couldn't stay in the Union anymore. It was suffocating me.”

Minghao could have taken a knife and stabbed him right in the gut, and hearing those words would have hurt ten times more. “I was suffocating you?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound hoarse.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” said Minghao, and there was suddenly fire in his gaze, like whenever he thought Mingyu was being an idiot on a mission. Any remnants of pretense were gone. “Not everything is about you. Clearly, you haven’t changed much either.”

“And you’d think that the guy who betrayed his partner for no reason at all was self-centered,” Mingyu shot back. “But somehow, I’m the bad guy. I’m sorry, that’s my fault.”

“Oh, but the guy who is so focused on _his_ feelings, and what happened to _him,_ isn’t in the wrong?” Minghao asked. “Of course I had reasons. Just because you were too naive to know what they were doesn’t mean they didn’t exist.”

This wasn’t how he had wanted it to go. He’d thought that he had gotten to a point where he wasn’t in pain, where he wasn’t in love with Minghao anymore, where Minghao couldn’t hurt him. But seeing Minghao again had all of his old wounds reopening, blood spilling on the floor. No one else could rile him up as easily as he could.

He remembered the night before Minghao left, when they had gotten wine-drunk after a successful mission and Minghao had crawled into his bed and kissed him, had done a lot more than just kiss him, too. He remembered the night after, when Minghao, armed with an Chinese ship, destroyed the ship they had lived in for six years and almost killed him in the process. Mingyu wasn’t sure which idea had scared him more—that Minghao could change his loyalties on a dime like that, or even worse, that it had been in him all along.

Mingyu squared his shoulders, leaning back and fixing Minghao with a glare. “You have some nerve. I could have you killed right now. I could kill you right now, and no one here would miss you.”

Minghao met his eyes easily, looking just as cold. “No, you won’t. You don’t have the emotional constitution.” 

“I wouldn’t say that unless you were completely sure I wasn’t going to blow your brains out,” Mingyu threatened. “I’m not afraid to hurt you, just like you weren’t afraid to hurt me.”

Minghao looked at him without saying anything for an agonizing moment, before huffing out a laugh. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Did Han give you a new partner after I left?” Minghao asked. Something in his eyes seemed to show he knew what the answer was. Mingyu shook his head, feeling suspicious. 

“Exactly my point,” continued Minghao. “He doesn’t think you can take it if another one leaves, too. He thinks you’ve been so emotionally damaged by my defection that another loss could break you, and he doesn’t want that, does he? Because you’re supposed to be the best pilot in the Thief Union, the next superstar, your father reincarnated. He thinks you’re _weak,_ and you know what? You are, even though you talk like you’re the big man now like you’re a leader.”

Mingyu blinked, stunned. They stared at each other for a long minute, waiting for the other to break. Inside, Mingyu knew he would never win. Minghao had always been able to hit where it hurt the most. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked finally.

“I thought that you might get it by now,” said Minghao, like Mingyu hadn’t said anything. “I thought you might _understand_ why I did what I did. But you’re still under Han’s thumb. You just eat up everything he says like he’s some sort of _God_ .” He stood up, slowly walking towards Mingyu like a lion getting ready to pounce. Mingyu tightened his grip on his gun. “And now, you have the _audacity_ to come in here and act like I’m the villain for leaving a place that forced me to do terrible, disgusting things for what? Honor? Notoriety? But because _Han_ told you it’s okay to kill and steal from innocent people, _I’m_ a traitor for leaving, _I’m_ the one that’s doing damage.”

“You took an oath of allegiance to the Union,” Mingyu snapped. “We signed a contract. You don’t think that should count for something? Enough that you don’t run away when things get hard?”

Minghao just sneered at him. “This place is all about breaking the law. You think legal documents have any real significance?” He pointed towards the barrier. “Go away.”

Perhaps there is something shameful about the idea of letting a prisoner kick you out of their own cell, but Minghao had always had power over him, enough that it was second-nature to do what he asked. He left.

Back in his room, Mingyu backed up against a wall and sat down, his face in his hands. He wondered how he could still be holding onto someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way.

~

**THEN**

Two years of Thief Academy had already worked Mingyu down to the bone. Life quickly became an endless routine: classes on math and science and various languages in the morning, and lessons on thievery from pickpocketing to inter-galactic heists in the afternoon, followed by combat on the mats in the evening, and special assignments and work from Han himself at night. Sleep was a privilege, not a right, and Mingyu learned not to take it for granted.

His father had even warned him about the difficulty of Thief Academy in the days leading up to the first day. After all, he had had the same experience thirty-odd years before, before he became a Thief Union pilot. But Mingyu had not been able to fully grasp its intensity until he was in the thick of it, trying to soak up information like drinking water from a fire hydrant.

Minghao, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine, taking the long hours of classes and fighting and studying in his stride. As it was, Mingyu was lying on his back on the mat after getting destroyed for the sixth time in a row, with Minghao’s legs wrapped tightly around his neck in a figure four. Mingyu pinched Minghao’s leg as he started getting lightheaded, and Minghao eventually let go, looking giddy.

“It’s not fair,” Mingyu grumbled. “I don’t have as much time to practice because I have all of those extra assignments from Han at night.”

“You say that as if every single other person in our class didn’t want to be in your position,” said Minghao, rolling onto his back next to Mingyu. Annoyingly, he didn’t have a single hair out of place and he wasn’t sweating, despite beating Mingyu black and blue. “But even though you have that, there’s no excuse for being so predictable.”

Mingyu turned onto his side to face Minghao, but Minghao had his eyes closed, face turned up to the ceiling. He had a nice profile, Mingyu thought to himself, with those pretty eyelashes and his nose and curve of his jaw. Even when they had been young, Minghao had always been handsome. As soon as it started, though, Mingyu snapped back to reality, putting on his whiny voice. “I’m not predictable,” he said. “You just play dirty.”

Minghao grinned when he opened his eyes and saw Mingyu’s pout.“You’re never going to win a fight if you pout every time someone else plays dirty,” he replied. “If you ever were to stop and complain about that on a job, you would end up dead.”

Mingyu scrunched his nose up, flopping onto his back. “You’re such a pessimist,” he said. “Just because you’re better than me at all of this doesn’t mean you have to act like I’m some sort of terrible student that just needs some redirection.”

When Minghao didn’t say anything for almost ten whole seconds, he turned his head back again. “What?”

Minghao looked surprised. “You think I’m better than you?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Of course you’re better than me. I might have the top grades in the class and the best reviews or whatever, but you’re still able to kick my ass whenever you feel like it. And plus, you’re friends with me, the greatest friend ever, so I think you’re getting significantly more benefits than I am.”

Minghao reached out to punch Mingyu in the arm, but his heart obviously wasn’t in it. “Thank you, Mingyu,” he said softly, surprisingly sincere. There was a pleased smile on his face. “That’s really nice of you.” He stood up, reaching out to help Mingyu up. “Wanna fight again?”

That night, when Mingyu let himself into Han’s office, still terribly sore from Minghao punching him in the gut the seventh time, Han was already waiting for him inside, sitting at his desk with his arms folded.

“Good evening, Leader Han,” said Mingyu, bowing in the doorway before stepping into the office.

“Hello, Mingyu,” replied Han, acknowledging him with a nod. “You’re right on time.”

There was a tablet propped up by a stack of scholarly-looking books, and Han beckoned Mingyu over to look at it. On the tablet were a bunch of live camera recordings, all playing at the same time. “This is a live recording of a mission,” said Han, gesturing to the tablet. “Your assignment today is to command the thieves onscreen and tell them where they need to go. All of the information for the mission is here.” He slid a thick file from one side of the desk to the other. “You have half an hour before the start of the mission.” 

Mingyu’s eyes widened at the sheer volume of the file. “How am I supposed to read all of this in only half an hour?”

Han just shrugged. “In the Thief Union, sometimes you don’t have a lot of time to do everything. Skim it and figure out what’s important.” He put a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “I have a lot of faith in you. I’m confident that you’ll do well.”

It was hard for Mingyu to fight down a smile. Leader Han had _faith_ in him. Leader Han thought he had the potential to succeed.

That alone was enough motivation for Mingyu to start reading, taking notes as he went, and talking it out with himself. Han simply watched from across the desk, looking pleased, and it urged him to keep going. When it came time for the mission to start, Mingyu was ready.

“You know, your father was just as strong as you when he was your age,” remarked Han after the mission was completed (successfully, Mingyu might add). Mingyu picked his head up, intrigued. He’d never learned much about his father growing up, other than from Han, who had been a good friend of his. “Respectful to peers and his teachers, always taking advantage of learning opportunities. He was a good pilot, and he would’ve been a top advisor to me now had he lived.” Han shook his head sadly. “His death was a real shame.”

Mingyu nodded, mostly to himself. He’d always wished that he would’ve grown up with a father since the few memories he did have with his father back in his early childhood had all been good. After he died, Mingyu had sworn to become as strong as his father had been, and Han had become a key mentor.

“Thank you for doing these lessons for me, sir,” he said as he was heading out. “I think some of the other gifted students in my class would benefit a lot from these kinds of opportunities.”

For the first time in a while, Han frowned, which surprised Mingyu. What had he said wrong?

“You don’t enjoy these one-on-one lessons with me?” He asked. “I think having other students here would jeopardize the usefulness of my teaching.”

It made sense to Mingyu at least. Still, he thought of Minghao, and how much potential he had, too. “Of course I enjoy your lessons, sir,” he replied, “but I also think that there are other students in my class that are just as worthy of receiving more advanced instruction. Like Xu Minghao, for instance.”

“Ah, your friend?” Han shook his head. “I don’t think that he would benefit from my lessons at all. He is not up to the... _caliber_ that you are, to put it bluntly. No, it simply would be a waste.”

There were many ways to describe Minghao—smart, funny, kind, beautiful (though he tried not to think about that so much), but there was no galaxy in which Minghao could ever be described as a _waste,_ or not up to caliber. Mingyu opened his mouth to make a contradiction, but he stopped abruptly. This was Leader Han, a man with infinitely more experience and power. What did Mingyu know about things like potential?

Instead, he nodded, bowing as he backed further out the door. “I understand. Thank you for your time, Leader Han.”

Han crossed the room before Mingyu could leave, grabbing both of his shoulders tightly. Despite the iron-grip he had on him, Han’s eyes were kind. “Remember why you are here, Mingyu. You are here to become a Thief Union pilot, not to make friends with your rivals, no? Letting people like Minghao, who are not as good as you but want to be the best just as much, get unique opportunities that were given only to you would hinder you completely.”

Mingyu smiled back, nodding his head. “Of course, sir.”

~

**NOW**

They moved Minghao’s cell underground so that the only light source was a single light fixture on either side of the long corridor. Still, Mingyu wasn’t about to risk thinking the guards couldn’t see him visiting, so he shut off all of the cameras and mics before going downstairs.

“I thought I told you to go away,” said Minghao when Mingyu walked through the barrier. The cell was much more barren than Minghao’s first one, with only a bed and an old-fashioned-looking toilet in the corner. Mingyu considered sitting down on the ground, but judging by the various stains created by water leaks on the floor, he changed his mind pretty fast.

“I know,” replied Mingyu. “I just...they moved your cell. I didn’t know where you were.”

“Does it really matter whether I’m above ground or underground?” asked Minghao, raising one eyebrow. “Why should you care?”

“We were partners for what, six years? Shouldn’t that count for something?” He could feel himself getting mad again. He tried to calm himself down. There wasn’t enough time left, and if he spent it all screaming, he’d never get to understand why. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

Minghao hesitated before nodding, his expression akin to the one he used to have when he indulged Mingyu’s crazy ideas—annoyed, but too amused to bother fighting. “Me neither.”

They were quiet for a little while, with Minghao sitting on his bed, looking up at the ceiling and Mingyu standing awkwardly against the wall, fidgeting.

“Do you really think I’m weak?” Mingyu asked suddenly, making Minghao look up.

Minghao regarded him thoughtfully, seeming to really consider it. “Yes,” he decided. “I think you are.”

Mingyu wasn’t sure if it hurt more, the first or the second time. The first time, at least it came from a place of anger and not a place of true contemplation. “Why?”

“I don’t mean that you’re physically weak,” said Minghao. His voice wasn’t cruel, per se, just matter-of-fact. “I think you’re a follower. When it comes to your morals, you don’t think for yourself.” Inside, something in his heart broke a little, but he managed to keep a straight face. How long had Minghao thought of him that way? “Do you really think I’m a coward?” Minghao asked then, looking curious.

He thought about it, hard, from what Minghao told him the first time they saw each other again to all of the years before that. “No,” he said finally. “I think...no matter what you did, you succeeded, regardless of the difficulty and any fear.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minghao’s face light up, just a little. As soon as he saw it, he heard Han’s voice in his head, telling him to shut it down. “Even when you betrayed me,” he continued, feeling more bitter, “you cut the strings completely, with no mistakes.”

At that, Minghao’s face fell. “Do you really think I wanted to hurt you? Leaving the Union was the easiest part, but leaving you was the hardest.” He brought his knees up to his chest, resting his feet on the bed frame. “I have no regrets about leaving the Thief Union, other than that.”

“If you regretted it so much, then why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?” replied Mingyu, edging on pleading. “You just up and left me. And then you came back and you shot down my ship. _Our_ ship.”

At least, when Mingyu mentioned the shooting, Minghao had the decency to look apologetic. “Why would I tell you? So that you could report me to Han and have me killed?” He shook his head, like the idea of it was preposterous. “This was something I had to do on my own.”

“I wouldn’t have reported you,” said Mingyu, and it startled him how true it felt. It was like when they were still partners, when he thought he and Minghao could be forever, whether it was platonic or romantic, and he was so enraptured that he would do anything for him. _You’re bowing down to your enemies_ , Han would’ve said. “You talk like I’m just another Han. I’m not.”

Mingyu’s words made Minghao pause, looking incredulous. “So, you don’t think Han is trying to make you the next leader of the Union? Why do you think only you got private lessons with Han after class?”

“I…” Mingyu scrambled around his brain for a decent answer, and couldn’t find any. “I don’t know.”

“And when you’re not out doing missions, what are you doing?” Minghao continued. “You’re teaching the new recruits and instilling in them the desire to steal, just like Han did with us. And soon enough, you’re going to find someone that would fit the narrative of a good leader, and you’re going to make sure he succeeds, just like Han did.

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you,” Minghao said, sounding definitive. “It wasn’t because I didn’t treasure our partnership, or because I didn’t care about you. It was because after we graduated with you in front of me, you were Han in every way except by name. It doesn’t matter if you sneak around his rules sometimes or you disagree with some of his leadership decisions. I couldn’t talk to you about this.”

“I thought we weren’t going to fight today,” said Mingyu, defensive.

Minghao just gave him a condescending look, serious and level. “Who said we were fighting? I’m just saying it like it is.”

“It’s biased, is what it is,” Mingyu shot back. “You talk like I should understand why you betrayed me, but I still don’t know why. You paint me as a villain, but you don’t explain yourself.”

“In what galaxy are you not a villain?” asked Minghao. “You are wanted on over twenty planets. You have stolen from the poor and the rich alike, you have committed arson on government buildings and destroyed tons of data, effectively hurting countless lives, you have shot innocent civilians. Why should you need an explanation?”

“Why should you feel the need to play mind games with me about this?” Mingyu asked back. “What possibly could have been so terrible here that you ran off in the middle of the night?”

“You would never understand,” Minghao spat. “You’re the next Han, after all.”

There was something terribly wrong with the whole thing, hearing Han’s name being uttered like a swear word. “Here’s what I _understand,”_ he said angrily. “You didn’t trust your partner, the person that’s supposed to be your other half. You didn’t trust me enough to even consider what being your partner even meant, that it means I would go anywhere with you, regardless of Han or the government or anyone else. And now, you’re down here in a prison cell, and I have a scar on my chest from when you almost killed me. So forgive me for not _understanding_ you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You say I’m weak because I’m a follower, but I’m not. I just have _loyalties_ , to Han, to the Union, to the things that have made me what I am today. Clearly, you have none.”

“I have loyalties,” Minghao snapped. “I’m loyal to myself, and my happiness, and I was loyal to you, once. But at some point, I realized those two things couldn’t coexist, and I made a choice.”

“Well, maybe if you had trusted me, you wouldn’t have had to make that choice.” He stood up to leave. “In a way, I’m glad that you left the Union,” said Mingyu, crossing over to the barrier wall. “At least I know now that we were never really partners since it never even occurred to you to talk to me.”

There were other questions, too, there always were. Minghao was like a science experiment that never truly ended—question, hypothesis, experiment, discussion in a never-ending cycle. _What did you mean when you came into my bed that night,_ he wanted to ask. _Who was I fucking that night, the old you, or this strange new one?_

But, some experiments are meant to go cold. Scientific miracles do happen, apparently, and not everything gets to get explained. 

Minghao said nothing as he left, and maybe Mingyu just imagined it, but his face looked a bit sad watching him go.

~

**THEN**

The room was full of tense energy as Mingyu walked in, full of anxious recruits waiting to go into the simulation machine. 

For Mingyu in particular, there was a lot of pressure. If he didn’t pass the final Thief Academy test, he’d never even get close to becoming what his father was. 

Minghao was sitting by himself on a couch in the corner, hugging his legs to his chest. They made eye contact as soon as Mingyu came through the doorway, and Mingyu immediately went over to him.

“Are you nervous?” He asked when he got close enough to be within hearing distance, taking a seat next to Minghao on the couch.

“I don’t get nervous about this stuff. We’ve practiced so much, anyway,” said Minghao, waving his hand dismissively, though Mingyu could see he was lying by the way his lips were bitten red and his hair was messy from running his hands through it. He looked over to where Mingyu’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of his uniform top. “Are you nervous?” Minghao asked, even though they knew each other well enough now that he didn’t really need an answer.

“I just...what will happen to me if I fail?” said Mingyu, still staring at his fingers. “Neither of us have really had lives outside of the Union. It’s not like I can get a job somewhere, after all of the stuff I’ve done.”

“First of all, you won’t fail,” replied Minghao, and it sounded so sure, Mingyu could almost believe it. “You’re the best in our class, after me, of course. And only the bottom 60% get cut, anyway. Even if you aren’t the best, it doesn’t mean you’ll fail.” He slung his arm around Mingyu’s shoulders, comforting. “Besides, we’re young. It’s not like your life is over.”

“It would feel like my life is over if I got cut.”

Minghao looked wistful, then. “Your life and self-worth shouldn’t be dependent on the Union. You should do your best for you, not for Han.” 

They were quiet for a minute, most likely mulling over last-minute concepts and techniques. “And for the partner pilot thing, you’ll pick me first, right?” asked Mingyu abruptly, biting his lip.

“Yah, stop saying we’re going to fail,” Minghao chided him. Still, his face softened a little. “Of course I’ll pick you.”

The door opened, and through it came Han in his long, dark trench coat. Mingyu expected Han to address the whole room, offering some sort of encouragement (or a reminder of the pressure), but Han went straight to where Mingyu and Minghao were sitting, paying no mind to the others. Beside him, Minghao’s back stiffened, turning straight like a rod.

“Hello, Mingyu,” said Han when he got close enough to speak. He and Minghao stood up to bow. “Are you excited for the test?”

“Of course, sir,” Mingyu replied, trying to give him a smile. It was always best to match Han’s enthusiasm, regardless of how nervous he actually was. “I feel ready.” 

“Good.” Han reached out and patted his back. “I wish you luck.” 

Han turned to Minghao and Mingyu thought he would say something encouraging to him as well, instead, he gave Minghao a long piercing look, holding his gaze for a few seconds. Minghao stared back, with the same intensity, until Han turned away and left the room.

“What was that about?” he asked Minghao. “Why didn’t he say anything to you?”

Before Minghao could answer, a loud bell rang, and all of the recruits stood up, shuffling towards the door. They entered into a hallway with many doors, each most likely leading to a simulation room. Minghao squeezed his shoulder quickly before slipping into the room marked with his name on it.

Mingyu’s simulation room was freezing cold, with sterile-looking white walls and a white floor, and the simulation machine itself in the center of the room. Instantly, all of the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. _Here we go_. 

The first two parts of the test passed quickly. Mingyu completed all of the pickpocket scenarios (with one slip-up with the police in the third one), and then went through the fighting scenarios. He wondered how Minghao was doing. Well, he guessed. Minghao, despite being named second, was skilled in almost everything. 

At last, it was time for the partner flying exercise. Mingyu’s hands were shaking, and his body was covered in sweat. 

“Pick your partner,” said the robotic voice coming from the ceiling. A list of the names of the recruits unfurled on the screen, in order of class rank. Mingyu easily found Minghao’s name (it was second from the top, after all) and selected it. Minghao’s face appeared in the corner of the screen, looking almost as tired as he did.

“How’ve you been?” Minghao asked, laughing when Mingyu let out a long groan. “Don’t worry, we’re going to crush this, right?”

“Definitely,” replied Mingyu, and even though he wasn’t confident at all in his performance during the first two sections, he felt confident he could beat this with Minghao by his side. He smiled at Minghao as the simulation loaded, and something in his chest fluttered when Minghao smiled back.

The rest of the test was a breeze. Mingyu controlled the ship while Minghao controlled the blasters, maneuvering through a field of asteroids and dodging enemy ships. Even looking back at it afterward, he was pretty sure they hadn’t made a single mistake.

 _Exam Complete_ , the screen read after the last simulation. He heard Minghao breathe out a sigh of relief just before his webcam turned off. 

After the test was over, Mingyu took off his headphones and powered down the machine. To his surprise, leaning against the machine was Han again, his hands in his pockets. “Leader Han, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to wish you luck on the results,” said Han, giving a crooked little grin. “Your father would have been proud of you for being here, you know. He’d always dreamed you’d follow after him.”

Mingyu beamed back, feeling a little proud. “Thank you, sir.”

“I have full confidence that you’ll pass with flying colors,” Han continued. “You’ve been doing well in your studies, after all, first in your class. I’d like to prematurely welcome you to the Thief Union pilot team. I’m guessing that’s where you’ll be going, like your father, no?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent, Mingyu,” said Han. “Well, there are festivities to be held. I hope to see you there.”

Later, just before the party started, he found Minghao waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. “How’d you do?” Minghao asked him as they walked down the hallway. 

Mingyu hesitated, thinking over it. He opened his mouth to say _terrible,_ but just before he did, Minghao reached out and took his hand, fingers intertwining, and whatever words he was going to say died in his mouth. It was one of Minghao’s magical qualities, being able to wordlessly change his mood. “Good,” he said finally, heart skipping a beat when Minghao’s eyes crinkled the tiniest bit. “I’m sure you did great, too.”

“Of course I did,” Minghao replied nonchalantly, even though he squeezed Mingyu’s hand as he did so. It was all Mingyu could do not to let the bottomless well of emotions in his heart start spilling over, coating his hands with happiness and adoration and _love_.

Even though Minghao let go soon after that, Mingyu swore his hand felt warm even hours later. 

~

**NOW**

There was a Public Humiliation for Minghao a few days later, punctuated with capital letters because of its severity. Public Humiliations were reserved for the worst traitors of the Thief Union, and they almost always ended poorly. Clearly, Han had run out of patience for using standard interrogation tactics on Minghao and was jumping straight to the big guns.

The crowd was already pretty big when they brought Minghao out from the prison, his arms and legs tied tightly together, and an entourage of heavily armed guards in front and behind him. He was gagged again, but he didn’t have a blindfold on anymore, so Minghao was able to leer menacingly at the crowd, nose flaring in contempt. The guards brought him up to a tall platform and tied him to a large post bolted to it. 

Seeing Minghao like this brought back all sorts of nostalgia, as creepy as it sounded. Mingyu’s father had been the leader of most of the Public Humiliations back in his Thief Union days. Before he died, he used to take Mingyu to the Pledis Headquarters with him and made him watch. Soaking in the crowd rallying so easily behind his father, watching as grown men and women broke under the pressure of their former allies jeering and uncovering their darkest secrets. Seeing the power his father had at his fingertips had sold five-year-old Mingyu so hard that from that day onward, he had no other aspirations. All he wanted was to be just like his father and command that much respect.

Perhaps that was what Minghao had meant by mocking his desire to be the next great Kim pilot. Still, it was beyond him why having that kind of prestige was a bad thing.

Han, who had taken over the Public Humiliation job after Mingyu’s father had gotten himself blown up, stepped up to the platform where Minghao stood, holding an old-fashioned baseball bat. “Hello, fellow Thieves!” he announced to the crowd. “Welcome to the 31st Public Humiliation, featuring today’s lovely guest, Xu Minghao!”

The crowd erupted into a mixture of yelling and booing. Minghao’s face was impassive still, eyes darting about and taking in the sight of all of the people. Mingyu, worried that Minghao would find him, shrunk back into the shadows.

Han looked out to the crowd, locking eyes with Mingyu once before moving on. He was trying to bait Minghao into lashing out, that much was clear. “Minghao was one of the Thief Union’s most successful recruitment cases. He was dirt-poor when we recruited him. His father was dead in a ditch and his mother was a whore. He was halfway to starving to death, trying to steal food from the local markets to survive. But the Thief Union, in all of its generosity, _saw_ his potential and talent, _sought_ him out all the way in a little town in China with no technology, and _trained_ him into a good thief.”

Mingyu frowned to himself, surprised. How couldn’t he have known about Minghao’s past? Granted, life for him didn’t truly start until he joined the Thief Union, so lives before didn’t matter much. Still, he thought Minghao might have told him. He supposed there were a lot of things Minghao had never told him, though.

“Minghao was the great combination of “almost”s,” Han continued. “Second in his graduating class eight years ago, almost to the day. Ranked second for the final exam. Second in line for the occupation ceremony. So close to being the best, to having the glory. 

“But,” said Han, “there was one thing that stood in his way, one thing that managed to stop him every time. His name was Kim Mingyu.”

Everyone near him turned to face him right away. He wondered what they thought about him being mentioned. _Kim Mingyu, the fool who didn’t even know his partner was betraying the Union? Kim Mingyu, Han’s little therapy case? Kim Mingyu, the baby who couldn’t handle having a partner anymore?_ He thought about hiding himself, but he didn’t want to look like a coward, so he picked his head up like a man and stared back at Minghao, whose face was...actually, it was hard to tell. Surprised to hear Mingyu’s name, maybe? Angry that Mingyu was being brought up at all? He didn’t know.

“Mingyu was in his recruit class, and he was the son of the Carnelian, the greatest Thief Union pilot of all time, as well as a friend of mine. They grew up to be very close friends, despite their differences in background, but in the end, Mingyu was always first. First in the class, first on the exam, first to pick his occupation. 

“And Minghao was jealous of it, and of course he was, since he wanted to be the best, the star pilot that rose from the poorest of the poor and became a great crime lord. He even came to my office once to accuse Mingyu of cheating the system in his desperation to be first. But do you know why Minghao would never be first, never be the best?”

The crowd was silent, hanging onto Han’s words in anticipation, including Mingyu. Minghao’s face was schooled perfectly into stoicism, almost like he was a robot. 

“Because Minghao had no respect,” said Han, banging the bat against the platform on the word _respect_ for emphasis. “No respect for his teachers, no respect for his peers, and worst of all, no respect for the Union. Without respect for the Union, there was no way he could ever overcome Mingyu or any good Union thief.”

Han’s grin was wicked, showing his sharp canines. “His jealousy ate at him more and more as he grew older, and his respect for the Union dwindled as a result. But in his own selfishness, he never strayed from Mingyu, constantly trying to find a way to beat him. They became ship partners soon after the final exam and stayed that way for almost six years. But in the end, Mingyu beat him every single time, earning more money, and earning the better name.

“And at last, Minghao couldn’t take being known as the lesser pilot any longer. His _greed_ and his _lust_ for prestige for which he was not worthy caused him to split from the Union. All because he couldn’t muster up a little respect for the very institution that saved his life all those years ago.” He suddenly turned to address Minghao, who was still staring straight ahead without any emotion on his face. “Isn’t that why you betrayed the Thief Union, Minghao?” Han crooned, cupping a hand under Minghao’s chin. If he hadn’t been gagged, Mingyu bet that he would’ve spit in Han’s face. “You were so hungry for Mingyu’s talents, you thought the only choice was to leave the Union?”

Minghao’s eyes darted towards Han’s, narrowing in spite. Han simply laughed, throwing his head back. “Even now, you continue to be arrogant. When will you understand that you were simply not good enough? That you will _never_ be good enough?”

Han started walking closer and closer until he was right up in Minghao’s face. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, some of his spit splashing onto Minghao’s skin. Mingyu grimaced, involuntarily. “Did you enjoy pretending like you were some big shot for a while, being Mingyu’s ship partner? I bet that was a real ego booster for you, acting like you had something for once. But you’ve never had anything that was really your own, have you? Not your family, not your home, not the clothes you wear on your back, not your talent.”

Mingyu watched Minghao’s face closely like how the other people in the crowd were, waiting for him to crack. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for someone tied to the post to break the facade. Mingyu had seen fully grown men bawl their eyes out during Public Humiliations, beg for forgiveness, wet themselves. He used to think to himself, _they deserve it. They never should have betrayed the Union in the first place._

But Minghao had been his best friend, his _partner_ once. Despite everything that he did, all Mingyu could think was, _don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

“Forty terabytes of classified data given up to the Chinese government,” Han was saying now. “Ten Thief Union ships blown up, including your own ship, with your very own partner inside. Several missions on the behalf of China, specifically targeting Thief Union bases.” He hit the baseball bat against the platform again to emphasize his point, and Minghao gave an almost-imperceptible flinch. “Did you really think it would help your case, turning over to the other side like a coward? Do you think you’re better than Mingyu now?

“What do you think Mingyu thinks of you now?” asked Han. “You think he thinks of you as anything more than an ungrateful monster? He hates you now, did you know that? He thinks that you should’ve gotten the death penalty as soon as you arrived.” 

Something in his chest twisted hard, hearing Han lie like that. Onstage, Minghao swallowed hard, shoulders tensing. Mingyu knew better than to make eye contact, turning his head away. If he looked at Minghao’s face any longer, he might start to feel _bad_ for him.

“Maybe I should let Mingyu execute you after I’m done with you,” Han mused. Mingyu almost recoiled—surely he didn’t mean that? “To really show you what a respectful thief can do. I bet he’d like that, being able to tell you himself how much of a _failure_ you are.”

“Failure!” Someone in the crowd shouted, and a couple of other people joined in. _“Failure!”_ It quickly became a chant, a mantra, that echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and becoming all-encompassing. Han turned his back on Minghao and faced the audience, leering triumphantly. This was the worst part of the Public Humiliation, thought Mingyu, where everyone you knew truly turned their backs on you. 

_“Failure!”_ Mingyu knew he was supposed to join in and be part of the group, but he just couldn’t, seeing Minghao up there with all of his dignity gone. It would be easier to let Minghao press into all of his old bruises again than it would be creating a new wound living with the guilt of hurting Minghao when he was already down. 

_You’re stooping to your subordinates’ levels,_ Han would’ve said if they were standing right next to each other. _If you want to defeat your rivals, you must become the example_. But as Mingyu opened his mouth, no words could come out; they were all stuck in his throat.

 _“Failure!”_ Mingyu made the mistake of looking back up at Minghao, and to his surprise, Minghao was looking right back at him, but not right at his eyes. Trailing his eyes down, he realized Minghao was looking at his mouth, trying to see if he was chanting along. Up on the stage, Han was looking at Mingyu, too, with a questioning look on his face. _Why aren’t you chanting along?_ , his face seemed to ask, and that was when he made a decision. 

He couldn’t keep letting Minghao beat him like this, not when he’d already hurt Mingyu ten times over. Showing that he cared enough to stay silent would be a sign of weakness. How could he be anything but weak, like Minghao said he was, if he couldn’t even resist his heart over his head?

 _“Failure!”_ For this one, Mingyu joined in, loud enough that his father would have been proud. As soon as Minghao saw it, his face closed off completely, any of the vulnerability he’d had before erased. Mingyu thought he might’ve seen a split-second where Minghao’s stone face broke, but it had to have been just his imagination. Mingyu instantly felt a wave of guilt rush through him, but he clenched his fists and kept shouting. Minghao closed his eyes, turning his head away from where Han was standing.

After the Public Humiliation, after Minghao was untied from the post and dragged back to his cell, Mingyu sat on the platform, staring at where Minghao had been standing. Why was he feeling guilty? Minghao was a traitor, a terrible one at that. 

And yet, as the word _failure_ rang in his ears over and over again, even long after the end of the chant, all Mingyu could think about was that Minghao had never failed _anything_.

~

**THEN**

They were named ship partners pretty quickly after the graduation ceremony, and given their very own ship. Mingyu and Minghao fought for an entire day on what to name it, but in the end, it was beyond Mingyu to try to deny Minghao anything, and they eventually settled on _Metric_ , named after Minghao’s home planet. 

Objectively, _Metric_ was a bad ship—decent in terms function, but terrible in terms of size. Each ship was meant to be able to house two people, but there was only one bed (which Mingyu was all too excited to share), and the kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom were all combined into one. 

Subjectively, Mingyu loved _Metric_ , because it was a home (read: a home with Minghao).

“I like it,” Mingyu said decidedly to Minghao on their first mission, sitting in their little pilot/co-pilot chairs, which doubled as dining chairs. “It’s cozy.”

Minghao wrinkled his nose, but the twinkle in his eye showed Mingyu he didn’t mean it. “It’s too small. It’s even smaller than our dorm rooms in Year 1.”

“So what if it’s small?” Mingyu latched his foot to the wall and used it as leverage to spin himself around in the swivel chair. Minghao cringed as the seat creaked with Mingyu’s weight. “It’s, like, the first thing we’ve ever owned here that’s ours. And it was _free._ We can do whatever we want.”

“It’s not exactly _free_ ,” said Minghao. “We still have to pay part of our profits to the Union for the ship.”

“Stop trying to be such a downer,” said Mingyu, feeling like being contrary. “It’s _our_ ship. I like owning stuff with you. It reinforces the partner thing or something.” He looked over at Minghao then, who was staring out at the stars as they passed them. “Are you glad you’re my ship partner? I don’t think I ever really asked you if you wanted to choose someone else.”

“Of course I’m glad we’re partners,” replied Minghao with no hesitation. “There wasn’t anyone else I would’ve thought of. And besides, someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like setting off the fire alarm with your beanpole arms.”

“The disrespect!” Mingyu whined, kicking out at Minghao with his foot. Secretly, the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy. Minghao wanted to be his partner, _liked_ being his partner. “We’re partners now, officially. You should at least try to be nice to me.”

“Nah,” said Minghao, giggling when Mingyu tried to kick him again. “We’re partners now, like you said, which gives me the right to be mean to you.”

Mingyu pouted, which made Minghao stand up to come closer. “Yah, Mingoo-yah, I’m just fucking with you,” he said, ruffling his hair. “I’m excited to be your partner. It’s going to be fun.”

 _Partners_ , Mingyu thought. _Two halves of a whole. Two sides of the same coin._ And also, _I could get used to doing this forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you figured it out, yes, Han is Han Seong su, the CEO of Pled*s, and no, I do not like him very much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry that this chapter ended up taking over two months to make (work decided to start murdering me in October). 
> 
> I'm not particularly proud of this fic in general, but especially this chapter. It's kind of a mess. Expect that I'm probably going to come back and edit this later. Or maybe delete it entirely.
> 
> Happy reading!

**II**

~

**NOW**

They moved Minghao’s cell again, so deep in the prison that Mingyu wasn’t totally sure which way was up and which way was down. Everything was dark and quiet and claustrophobic, but Mingyu didn’t care. He had to know whether what Han said was true. 

The cell was even smaller than it was before, and so dark that Mingyu only knew where Minghao was because of the faint  _ clang!  _ of the chains banging against the wall. He took out his flashlight, flipping it on and pointing it at the ceiling so it wouldn’t go into Minghao’s eyes. Minghao blinked a few times to adjust to the dim light anyway.

“Was it true?” he asked without preamble, leaning against the wall and not sitting down so he wouldn’t mess up his clothes from all of the leaky water on the floor. “Everything Han said?”

“Why would it matter to you?” asked Minghao, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “You were yelling with him. You were agreeing with him in front of everyone.”

Mingyu winced. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you say it?” Even with the light, Mingyu didn’t need to look at Minghao to picture it—the furrowed eyebrows, the set jaw. “How could you say you and Han are any different? I saw you that day when they started yelling at me. You were looking at me, and then you looked at Han, and then you started chanting with them. How could you say you’re not Han when he makes you say things you don’t believe in?”

He tried to open his mouth to argue, but there was no argument. No logical argument, at least. “I—”

“Why are you even here, if you’re just going to believe everything he says?” Minghao interrupted. “To mock me? To say you won?”

“No!” Mingyu exclaimed. “I just wanted to know if it was true. Everything Han said, I mean.” He shook his head. The more Mingyu tried to use different tactics, offensive to defensive to sympathetic, the more Minghao was able to still jab at him. Maybe it was best just to let it go. “If you’re upset, I’ll go. You’re right, I shouldn’t be here.” He stood up to leave, utility belt jingling as he did.

But as he was halfway through the barrier, he heard Minghao make a soft noise, a little intake of breath. It made him stop for just a second and turn. Minghao was looking at him, his lip between his teeth. “What?”

“It was true,” Minghao said, a little hesitantly. He seemed surprised himself that he was saying anything at all. “He was right, I was angry about being second. But he didn’t tell the whole story.”

Mingyu froze. Why hadn’t Han told him anything about this? For all he knew growing up, Minghao and Han never interacted, never even said a word to each other. He poked his head back inside. “Then explain it to me,” said Mingyu. “What happened that made you want to leave?”

Minghao sighed, and then they were quiet for a little bit, with Minghao most likely collecting his thoughts. Mingyu took the flashlight and started spinning it in his hands, making the light bounce around the wall like crazy. The silence pressed on, crushing all of the air in the room. Finally, Minghao spoke.

“Han was right about my childhood, and the recruitment and all of that,” said Minghao. “I don’t remember a lot of it anymore, but I remember just being taken off the streets and onto a ship.” He gave a wry little chuckle, echoing off the walls. “Han was on the ship that day, I remember that. He gave me a piece of chocolate on the ship. I’d never had chocolate before, and so I decided I really liked him.”

“What changed, then?” Mingyu asked.

“I’m getting there,” Minghao snapped, and if they had been back on the ship, Mingyu would’ve giggled, maybe even ruffled Minghao’s hair for being such a blunt little shit. Here, though, he fell silent, breath picking up in anticipation.

“I really liked the Academy at first,” Minghao continued. “I missed Metric at first, of course, but they gave us total freedom, and I was going to school, and there was you…” He trailed off. “And I really liked having you around, truly. I never thought I could ever get as close to someone as I did with you.”

“Stop it,” whispered Mingyu. There was a lump in his throat, and it wouldn’t go away. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”

“But as Han started to like you more and more, he started to dislike me more and more, too,” said Minghao, as if Mingyu hadn’t spoken. “He stopped singling me out during combat sessions and complimenting me. He would criticize me on the most miniscule things. Though,” he said, and it sounded like he was smiling, “that kind of backfired on him, since it just forced me to get even better.”

“That’s just speculation,” Mingyu argued. “Maybe he was just trying to challenge you to do better.”

“He used to take me to his office and scream at me, call me slurs,” replied Minghao, practically spitting it. “For hours, like at the Public Humiliation. He used to take videos of my fights and compare them with yours, and he would mock me about it for weeks on end. When he thought I had gained too much weight, he would comment on it, and when he thought I’d lost too much, he’d make fun of me for that, too. While you were off doing your special assignments, he would make me clean his office from top to bottom at the crack of dawn.” He sighed. “Does that sound like challenging me to you?”

Mingyu’s mouth dropped open, speechless. When did that happen? How could it have happened?

Minghao must have taken Mingyu’s silence as a message to keep going. It took a decent amount of strength for Mingyu not to cover his ears like a child. “After the final exam, he tried to scare me into not picking you as my ship partner. He tried to say that I’d never be as good as you and that it would never be worth it. He only let me be your partner because  _ you  _ wanted me, and he gives you everything you ask for. For years after we graduated, he continued trying to bring my self-esteem down, so that he could inflate your ego.” 

“I…” What could he say that would make this better? Could he even say anything at all? Could he even trust what Minghao was saying? “Are you serious?”

Minghao snorted, but it was more incredulous than out of humor. “Why would I lie? What would I accomplish by not telling you the truth?”

“I just...I didn’t know anything about that.”

“You didn’t know anything about a lot of things, Mingyu,” said Minghao, sighing. There was some more shuffling on his side of the cell, probably Minghao trying to get comfortable. Mingyu cringed—whatever configuration Minghao was tied up in could not be pleasant at all. “Is this enough closure for you? Do you get why I couldn’t stay? Will you leave me alone and stop trying to dig up the past now?”

“How could I  _ not  _ dig up the past?” Mingyu asked. “You were my past. How could I not think about it? How could you not think about it?”

“You think I want to think about it?” In the glaring light of the flashlight, it was easy to see the way Minghao’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed hard. “The way he’d tie me to a chair and try to make me cry? The way that I always felt like he was watching me, trying to find a place where I’d messed up? No, I don’t want to think about it, especially not with you.” 

How long had it happened? Why hadn’t Minghao told him before? “You should’ve told me, I could’ve—”

“Not everything in life can be fixed by the golden boy, Mingyu,” interrupted Minghao. “You couldn’t have done anything. And it’s too late now.”

“But there didn’t have to be a  _ too late _ !” Mingyu exclaimed angrily. “I would’ve protected you, even against Han, don’t you know that? But instead, you harbored all of these secrets and left me thinking everything was okay, and then—” He cut himself off. Took a deep breath. Tried to close himself off, even though his organs already felt exposed to the damp air of the cell. “Look. I really am sorry if those things happened to you. But you can’t keep blaming me for what Han did.”

“Not everything is about you!” Minghao let out a sharp exhale. Maybe if he hadn’t been chained up, he would’ve banged his fist against the floor. “I’m not blaming you. I’m  _ explaining _ why I did what I did because you keep coming here and pestering me.  _ Not everything is about you. _ ”

“But you are blaming me!” Mingyu shouted. “You say my name like it’s some sort of curse. You called me weak because I follow Han, even though you refused to explain why. There hasn’t been a single time that I’ve been here that you haven’t insulted me, or my character. How is that fair?”

“Fine, then, maybe I am blaming you,” said Minghao, though the sharpness of his tone hardly made it seem like a concession. “Maybe I do hate you for what happened to me. Maybe I think that if I had never met you, I would be happier. Is that what you want me to say? That I regret having you in my life?”

It was like the ship attack all over again, sharp metal buried in his chest. He went breathless, throat constricting. Wasn’t he supposed to feel victorious? He had all of his answers, and yet, nothing felt finished. “If that’s how you feel,” he said, much quieter than before.

Minghao seemed to realize how cruel he had sounded, chains clinking against the wall again as he tried to move. “Mingyu, I—”

“No, I get it,” Mingyu replied softly. His heart was thudding, blood rushing in his ears. “I’ll...I’ll leave you alone. This was...definitely closure, I guess.”

“Mingyu, come on.”

Mingyu just turned his head back. Hysterically, he almost felt like laughing, which was definitely not the right emotion for the moment. “What, you want me to stay? So you can call me weak and a follower, and an oblivious idiot? No, thanks.”

The barrier wall rippled as he passed through it, kind of like going through a wall of cascading water. Mingyu felt like he was drowning.

~

**THEN**

Life on Metric was stagnant, never really changing.

Mingyu and Minghao easily fell into a routine: Minghao woke up first, checked the engines, and did the inventory on supplies, and Mingyu made breakfast. While they ate, they liked to sit in their pilot/co-pilot chairs by the big window in the cockpit room, chatting about the upcoming missions. It was all extremely domestic; Mingyu often wondered if things would really be that different if Minghao were to kiss him awake or if they held hands over the kitchen counter.

Years passed like that, and Mingyu liked all of it—the small, cramped ship, the excitement of flying. Minghao. (Thievery was okay too, although Mingyu always thought of it secondary to being a pilot.) As far as he knew, Minghao enjoyed it, too, from the way he smiled whenever he was sitting in the pilot chair, the way his eyes lit up when Mingyu walked into the room. It was nice. Comfortable. Familiar.

Mingyu’s love for Minghao became something in the background—always present, but it was something he could live with, something to bear. After all, being  _ partners  _ was something even closer than being romantically involved. Wasn’t that the epitome of intimacy, knowing someone so well you could finish each others’ sentences and know what they were thinking? Why would he need to ask for more than total trust?

Maybe that was why he didn’t bat an eye when Minghao asked to go to Earth for a mission. “Earth is incredibly resource-deficient,” said Mingyu, frowning. “Why would we need to go there?”

“Sure, it has no resources,” said Minghao, “but they are very business-savvy over there. Black markets are starting to pop up all over China. Going there as a representative for the Thief Union could establish some good contacts.”

“The Chinese government has been taking down those black markets as soon as they go up.”

“Just trust me, Mingyu,” said Minghao, and it was in the way that he said Mingyu’s name, soft around the consonants like he had sanded them down, that made Mingyu agree. “I’ve got this. I have a friend in Shanghai, and he said we could come and do business there safely.”

And why would Mingyu have any reason not to trust him? They were partners, after all.

So, Mingyu, stupid and love-blind, nodded and then started the ship. 

~

**NOW**

True to his word, Mingyu didn’t visit Minghao after that day. He tried to make himself believe that it was easy to resist the urge to take the long staircase down, but after only one day, it was impossible. It was only one in the afternoon when he found himself by the entrance to the prison for the third time that day.

Han found him like that, pacing back and forth in front of the door like a madman. Mingyu’s body relaxed at the familiar scent of Han’s cologne, but stiffened again when he thought of Minghao, and what he’d said. Was it true, what happened? Would he ever get a straight answer from anyone?

“Are you thinking about him?” Han asked. That was something he and Minghao shared, the ability to see right through his intentions. “It’s not worth it, you know. He hasn’t been opening up about what he knows to anyone.”

_ Right,  _ Mingyu thought distantly. He’d been so focused on trying to learn why it happened, he hadn’t even thought to ask Minghao about all of the insider information he was being interrogated for. Not that Minghao would’ve said anything different to him. He was a good spy like that. He never gave up his trade secrets.

“I was considering visiting him before the trial,” he lied, staring at the spot between Han’s eyebrows. His stomach felt uneasy about it; even though he was older now, he still felt guilty whenever he had to lie to Han, leftover from when he was little and Han began acting like a father figure. “But you’re right, it’s not worth it.” He tried to bow goodbye to Han, turning and starting to walk back to the shipyard, but Han followed him.

“Are you worried about the trial?” Han asked as they turned the corner.

“No, not really.” That at least was honest. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what the outcome was going to be.

“I’m hoping that it’ll be at least a level of closure for you,” said Han, giving a little side-smirk. “I wasn’t lying about the execution. I’ll give you the gun if you want it.”

Mingyu turned his head and pretended to fix his belt, but his heart was pounding. What was happening? Wasn’t this supposed to be what he wanted? Why did he feel so sick? “I think I’ll be alright,” he said, trying his best to give a little chuckle and hide how he wanted to throw up. “The world will continue, regardless if I give the blow or someone else does.”

Han gave him a look, something calculating, appraising. Mingyu tried to make his face look as impassive as possible. “I don’t want you to think about this too much, okay? It may have been distressing to see him turn like that, but it’s over now. You’ve won.”

_ You’ve won.  _ It certainly didn’t feel that way, not with the way Minghao’s lip was curled in a sneer, or with the way Minghao was the only thing he ever saw in his dreams. But Han was still staring at him, eyes practically boring into his brain, and Mingyu remembered abruptly that he had to respond. “Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. The trial is tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be in attendance,” said Han, shoving a hand in his trench coat. He gave a little smirk. “If you have a mission, I’ll save you a front row seat for when you come back.”

Mingyu hadn’t even thought about going on missions since Minghao came back. He’d tried sitting in the pilot seat and all he could think about was the empty space beside him, practically mocking him. He wondered if Han already knew, or if he had even been tracking his ship’s location and his schedule. How much did Han know about him? How much did he know about Minghao? “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Schedule (or lack thereof) cleared and the ship locked securely away, Mingyu walked into Han’s “courtroom”, a large auditorium normally used for big lectures at the Thief Academy. There was a seat open in the very front row, just like Han had promised. Han was probably somewhere off to the side, but Mingyu wouldn’t put it past him to be checking to make sure Mingyu sat down in the right place. The seat creaked under his weight as he sat down.

The display of Minghao chained up was getting more and more extravagant each time, so Mingyu wasn’t all that surprised when they wheeled him in on a fucking cart of all things, on his knees with his legs and arms tied and tape around his mouth again. In the bright lights, he looked so much paler and thinner than Mingyu remembered. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked so  _ tired _ .

Their eyes met. This time, Minghao was the first to look away.

The trial began with Han’s usual fanfare. “Welcome, everyone,” he began, stepping up to the podium. He was dressed how he had been during the Public Humiliation, but he held a large gavel instead of a staff. “I think by this point, you should already know from our lovely guest at center stage why we’re here.” 

He gestured to Minghao, who didn’t move a muscle, even when the crowd started yelling and booing at him. Mingyu started to join them, but then thought about what Minghao had said about his hypocrisy.  _ How could you say you’re not Han when he makes you say things you don’t believe in?  _ He sat back in his seat, mouth snapping shut. Since when did every little move seem to require so much scrutiny in front of Minghao? In front of Han, the person he was supposed to respect and trust the most?

“The list of charges against Xu Minghao include theft of 40 terabytes worth of private Thief Union data and property, arson against 10 Thief Union ships, and being an accomplice to a number of Thief Union base attacks,” continued Han. “And, of course, breaking the Thief Union contract without consulting me or another Thief Union official.” He sounded...almost bored? Mostly like he just wanted to get on with the whole thing and kill Minghao. Mingyu bet the rest of the people there could relate to that. “I have the evidence to convict, and the arguments to back it up. But, of course, this is a fair trial, so we’ll let the defendant make his case. In fact, I’ll let him go first. Minghao?”

The audience turned to Minghao, who remained silent; after all, he was gagged. When the audience seemed to realize the same thing, Han started to laugh. “Oh, that’s right! He can’t speak. Why would he need to? It’s not like he’s ever had anything substantial to say,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess we’ll just have to move on to voting, then. All those in favor?”

He gestured for the crowd to give a reaction, and they sure did—pure chaos and shouting from all directions, echoing and bouncing off all the walls. From where he sat, Han’s grin looked like he was dripping venom, tongue between his teeth like he was a snake. Minghao still hadn’t moved. Neither could Mingyu, frozen to the spot.

“It’s always lovely to see such high voter turnout,” Han remarked, and the audience gave a little collective chuckle. And was Han winking at Minghao? Regardless of whether he was or not, though, it didn’t matter; Minghao still refused to look at him. It was hard for Mingyu to look at him, too. Somehow, the bright lights on the stage felt like they had grown even brighter, making everything in the room feel washed out and overexposed. He closed his eyes and reopened them, like it would make him feel less dizzy. What was wrong with him? 

“Now, for the punishment,” said Han, raising his hand to quiet the rest of the room. “Xu Minghao, you are charged as  _ guilty  _ for betraying the Thief Union,  _ guilty  _ for theft, and  _ guilty _ for arson. In 48 hours’ time, you will return here, as will the rest of the Thief Union, where you will be executed.” 

All of the spectators erupted into wild cheers, more screaming than anything else. Mingyu felt numb. Minghao was going to die.  _ Minghao  _ was going to die. Minghao was going to  _ die _ . None of the ways it sounded in his head sounded right.

He wondered if there was anyone there who had been in the same classes with Minghao at Thief Academy, or if there was anyone who he’d been friends with before graduation. Was it really so easy for everyone else to just move on and dismiss Minghao as a traitor?

_ Maybe I do hate you for what happened to me,  _ Minghao had said that night. Why couldn’t he just move on like everyone else? Minghao certainly had, and so had everyone in the crowd had, too. What was he still holding on for?

He felt Han’s eyes on him again. He forced a smile, although it was getting harder as the minutes wore on. 

“Let this be an example and a lesson to you all,” Han was saying onstage. “Those who betray the Union pay for it. Those who don’t respect their roots, and where they came from, and who helped them when they had nothing, don’t deserve to get any respect back. I hope to see all of you at the execution. Same time, same place.”

_ Sure, I’ll be there,  _ Mingyu thought.  _ Maybe after that, it’ll finally just be over. Maybe I’ll finally be able to move on. _

~

**THEN**

“Why’d you stop the ship?” Mingyu asked as he walked into the cockpit room, leaning against the doorway. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” said Minghao from the pilot’s chair, giving him a little smile, tight at the corners and not quite reaching his eyes. “I just wanted a break.”

“Oh,” said Mingyu, feeling a little confused. “I can take over if you want? You can go sleep.”

Minghao shook his head. “Not like that.” He bit his lip, like he was trying to figure out how to say something. “Do...do you want a drink or something?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Right now? It’s like…” he checked the clock hung on the wall. “6 pm?”

“That’s a perfectly normal time to be drinking,” Minghao said, stubborn in his resolve. “I just want you to hang out with me. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Mingyu could argue that they had, given that they were on the same ship, day in and day out, but he didn’t. Love, sometimes, meant letting certain things go, like arguments. He couldn’t even remember the last time he and Minghao had argued over something, even trivial things like who ran the dishwasher or the state of the sheets. 

And besides, he could never pass up extra time with Minghao, anyway. It was like he was some sort of magnet always drawing him close. 

“Are we not having food to go with the wine?” Mingyu asked as Minghao set down a large bottle of wine onto their makeshift coffee table in their makeshift living room. He couldn’t remember exactly where they’d gotten it, but the gold finish on the bottle cap seemed to signal they’d probably stolen it. “It’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

“I’m not the one with the terrible alcohol tolerance,” Minghao shot back, pouring the wine. “You can get your bottle of baby formula if you really need it.”

Mingyu fought the urge to slap Minghao, mostly because he was holding the wine glass. He grabbed it gratefully and took a sip. “It’s good.”

“Of course it’s good,” said Minghao, rolling his eyes. “I’m a man of taste.”

They sat in silence for a little while, listening to the soft music Mingyu had put on playing out of the stereo. Minghao drank a second glass, and then a third. The speed at which he was drinking clearly meant he was intent on getting drunk, so Mingyu needed to suss out the problem before it got out of hand.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” he asked.

Minghao set down the glass carefully. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

Mingyu gave a little chuckle. “I’d like to think I know you well enough now to know if something’s wrong.” He poured himself another glass. “What is it? Did you leave evidence at the mission? Are the coordinates wrong? Did you have a torrid love affair back on Ellos and are now getting irresistible feelings of yearning for your long-lost girl?”

At the third question, Minghao laughed, his whole face crinkling. “Yes, of course, my fair lady is awaiting me at home,” he replied, smiling. Then, he turned serious again. “Really, I’m alright. I’m just tired.”

He knew Minghao knew Mingyu wasn’t buying it for a second. But, he had grown used to being able to let things go. “Just let me know when you’re ready to tell me,” said Mingyu. “I’m patient.”

Minghao chuckled again. His face was flushed from the alcohol, and the way the lights, warm and casting different shades of yellow and orange and red from the heat filters Mingyu had put on for the winter, made him look like he was bathed in honey. It was a little distracting. “You’ve never been patient in your life.”

They both loosened up a bit more after that, with Minghao still trying to dodge the subject and Mingyu just letting him do it. It would be okay, right? It wasn’t like Minghao was that against asking for help when he needed it, not anymore. 

“We should go to bed,” said Mingyu after another forty-five minutes of drinking and aimless talking. His vision had turned soft around the edges, and Mingyu’s head felt heavy resting in Minghao’s lap. Neither Mingyu nor Minghao were in any shape to be flying the ship until the next day. “We have to get up early tomorrow and finish the ride over.”

Minghao let out a little hum and stood up on shaky legs, half-leaning, half-falling onto Mingyu’s chest. Mingyu let out a yelp, startled and caught off-balance. Even so, he could feel how warm Minghao was through his shirt, how soft his hair was, brushing against his neck, and Mingyu, even clingier when he was drunk, was perfectly content just letting it happen. 

“Wanna sleep in your bed,” Minghao mumbled into his chest. He slowly started shuffling them toward the bedroom area. Mingyu let himself get dragged and pulled wherever Minghao pleased. “It’s cold out, I need something to warm me up.”

“You’re already warm,” Mingyu said, but he was already complying, dragging their amorphous tangle of bodies onto the bed and rolling onto his back. Minghao stayed on top of him, tucking his head into the space where Mingyu’s neck and shoulder met.

Cuddling wasn’t an uncommon thing between them, even when they were kids. Mingyu was clingy all the time and Minghao always pretended to hate offers of affection, but he never complained when Mingyu gave him back-hugs or put his head on his shoulder. It was comfortable like this, with Minghao’s body covering him like a blanket, nuzzling his neck.

He was just about ready to fall asleep like that, with the weight of Minghao’s body only serving to warm him up instead of crushing him, but then Minghao shifted, and started to speak.

“You awake, Mingyu?”

“Yeah?” he asked, surprised at how hoarse his voice was. Maybe Minghao was crushing his windpipe more than he’d thought. That might’ve explained why his throat was so dry, too, or why there was something buzzing in his stomach, waiting to be awakened.

“Open your eyes,” said Minghao softly, and Mingyu did, blinking a few times to get adjusted to the light. Above him, Minghao looked ethereal, the candlelight effect of the lights painting his face in odd colors and intricate shadows. They were probably closer together than they’d ever been before.

Minghao reached down to touch his cheek with his fingertips, his pupils blown out and his eyes dark. Maybe if he’d been soberer, Mingyu would have had the decision-making skills to stop him, kick him out of his bed and make him drink some water, but instead, he leaned back into the touch, pulling Minghao in. 

He probably should have anticipated the kiss, but as soon as their lips met, he realized there was no way he could have ever prepared enough for it. How could someone prepare for something so beyond anything that could be taught? Mingyu kissed him back, winding his arms around Minghao’s neck. The tighter he pulled Minghao closer, the more the little ball of pining and wishing and loving deep in the recesses of his heart began to unravel, and he needed more. Maybe he needed this for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, Minghao pulled away, placing a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder to keep him from getting closer. “Is this...is this okay?” Minghao asked carefully, looking worried. There was something in Minghao’s face, a little more than hesitation, or shell-shocked. Mingyu knew the look, the  _ is this really mine?  _ look, had seen it when he’d gotten Minghao a birthday gift for his eighth birthday, a shiny new model of his father’s old ship, had seen it after their first successful mission, when he was holding their loot in his hands, had seen it during quiet nights on the ship when they stood together by the window in the cockpit room, looking out at the stars. He wanted to wipe the disbelief off Minghao’s face as fast as he could. 

“Yeah,” replied Mingyu, reaching up to kiss Minghao again, but Minghao didn’t budge. “Yeah, please.” His voice started to edge around begging, but Minghao’s expression stayed the same.

“We’re both drunk,” said Minghao, like it was a helpful reminder. Were they? Mingyu honestly couldn’t tell if Minghao was still drunk or not. He couldn’t even remember if he himself was drunk. Everything in his brain flew out the window the second they kissed. “If you don’t want it...we...we don’t have to.”

Mingyu nodded vigorously, probably looking way overeager. “It’s fine, Minghao, just let me kiss you, please,” he pleaded, tugging at Minghao’s shoulder.

Something about what he’d said must have awakened something in Minghao, because he, finally, began inching back closer. Mingyu kissed whatever he could reach: Minghao’s lips, his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, the pointed tips of his ears, his neck, where he could feel his pulse hammering away, way faster than normal. One of the first lessons Han had ever taught him was not to bow down to other people, but all Mingyu could think about was how to make Minghao sigh contentedly the most, or how to make him blush all the way down his neck. Maybe Han didn’t know it, but Mingyu had already bowed down to Minghao in every way possible, even back when they were little.

_ You’re so beautiful,  _ he wanted to say.  _ I want you. I’ll be yours, just say the word. I’ll love you until I die.  _ But he focused instead on how Minghao looked with his shirt off and his hair messy from pulling the shirt over his head, and how he sounded saying Mingyu’s name over and over against his mouth. Mingyu’s heart, the part of him he’d tried so hard to keep in the dark depths of himself, started emerging from the shadows, like a tree slowly regrowing leaves after a long, hard winter, buds green and hopeful.  _ Maybe this is the start of something new. Something good. Maybe they could be  _ partners  _ for real, in every sense of the word. _

“Do you want to stop?” Minghao whispered into Mingyu’s ear a while later, his hand on Mingyu’s hip, holding him close, like they were just two men making love and not two ship partners having a drunken hookup. 

“Never,” said Mingyu, the wine making him bold, and honest, and things proceeded accordingly.

When he woke up the next morning, later than he’d anticipated, the ship was already parked in the shipyard in Shanghai, and Minghao was nowhere to be found. 

And that was when things really started to go to shit.

~

**NOW**

Mingyu wasn’t sure how he got down the stairs without breaking a leg, but he stumbled to the bottom and turned right, heading towards Minghao’s cell. When had it gotten so familiar? As soon as he set the cameras on loop and turned off the microphones, he half-walked, half-fell through the barrier, his almost-empty flask nearly falling from his loose grip.

“Mingyu?” said Minghao’s voice from the corner. His voice was hoarse; he must have been sleeping. “Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?”

Across the room, Minghao’s chains scraped against the floor as he moved. “What are you doing here?” There was a pause. “Oh. You’re drunk,” Minghao finally said, quietly. He almost sounded...disappointed? Disapproving? With Minghao, there was never much of a difference.

“What?” It was easier to be meaner when he had vodka, words naturally on edge. “You gonna lecture me about drinking habits? Xu Minghao, former wine connoisseur?”

“No,” said Minghao, softer. “I don’t give a shit about what you do.”

At that, Mingyu started to laugh. He hated this version of himself, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “Of course you don’t,” he replied sharply. “You never did, did you? You never gave a shit about what I did, or how I felt, or—”

“Are we really going to have this argument again?” asked Minghao, sounding exasperated. “What’s the point?”

“When else are we going to have this argument? Next week? When you’re dead and your remains are floating through the atmosphere?”

It still didn’t feel real. Well, that wasn’t really true. After the trial, it had felt way too real, so real his head had felt tingly and painful all day, like someone had waxed his entire face and neglected to give him cream to soothe the burn. Maybe that was why he’d brought out the vodka. Now, it didn’t feel as real anymore.

Minghao was going to die.  _ Minghao  _ was going to die. Minghao was going to  _ die.  _ It sounded like some sort of tongue twister, not Mingyu’s twisted thoughts.

“I’m so tired of this,” Mingyu continued, unable to make himself shut up. “I keep coming here, you chew me out, and then I come back again. Pathetic, isn’t it?” Minghao didn’t respond. Maybe he’d gone back to sleep. It wasn’t like Mingyu was saying anything that wasn’t obvious, or anything really worth listening to.

He sighed, leaning back against one of the walls, despite how there were probably bloodstains and other questionable substances on it that couldn’t be seen in the dark. “You don’t have to say it,” he said, taking another sip from the flask. “It’s not like I don’t already know what you think of me. What everyone else here thinks of me.” Mingyu took the flask and set it on the ground. He’d already had too much, but he kind of wished he had some more.

His thoughts whirred, jumping from subject to subject, emotion to emotion. His brain-to-mouth filter was already pretty awful, and drinking wasn’t helping things. “Do you think I’m a fool, Minghao?”

Something in the cell shifted, and Mingyu felt a little wave of relief knowing he wasn’t talking to himself like a loner or some nutjob. “No,” said Minghao, though his voice turned up a little at the end of the word, like a question.

Mingyu exhaled into a laugh. “Glad to see you still like to lie,” he said. “You don’t need to lie to me, you know. I already feel like a mental case, it’s not like you’ve been any consolation.”

Minghao hummed, like they were having a totally normal conversation and not like Mingyu had crashed into his cell in the middle of the night. Maybe Minghao was a little fucked up from being in the cell for so long, too. Or maybe he was egging Mingyu on, trying to learn more. It was probably both. “So tell me then, why are you a fool?”

He knocked his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Even though the cell was already pitch-black, closing his eyes made it a little easier to speak. “People talk,” he replied simply. “They talk about everyone’s shit and it spreads.”

“Like what?”

“You know.” He made some random gestures with his hands, then realized Minghao couldn’t see them and put his hands down. “What kind of decent thief doesn’t know their partner’s going to turn to the other side? What kind of decent thief then almost gets blown up by their partner? What kind of decent thief sees their traitorous ex-partner as anything less than a monster?” 

“It’s not like I was trying to let you know I was going to leave,” said Minghao. “It was a secret. If two people know a secret, it’s not a secret anymore.”

“But I should’ve known.” Mingyu picked the flask back up and flipped it back and forth between his hands. His hands were so unsteady, he dropped the flask immediately, the metal echoing on the stone floor. “It doesn’t matter how much Han says it wasn’t my fault. I should’ve known.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “Everyone and everything is always telling me to hate you and forget you and to move on. Everyone already moved on a long time ago, and you moved on way before everyone else,” said Mingyu. “But I’m still here, stuck on the  _ could’ve, should’ve, would’ve,  _ and now I’m here in your fucking cell of all places and thinking about how things were before—” he cut himself off, trying to organize his melted brain. He took a deep breath.

“I just—I’m working on it. It still hurts, isn’t that depressing?” said Mingyu, grimacing at himself. “At first, I thought maybe you’d been captured, but then you would’ve gotten out, you always do. And then I thought maybe you’d left because I wasn’t good enough for you, and that hurt like shit, but then I realized it couldn’t have been that, either. I was fucking first in our class, right? So then I thought...I thought it wasn’t either of that. It wasn’t that I wasn’t  _ good  _ enough for you, it was that I wasn’t  _ enough  _ for you. You didn’t even think about me. You went and made a deal with China without telling me, lied about why we were going there, all of it. You didn’t care.”

“I cared,” said Minghao, but it lacked its usual heat. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Suddenly, he felt like crying, for no reason at all. Tears threatened to spill through his closed eyelids. “You didn’t want to hurt me when you were fucking me? Or when you just left the next morning? The last good thing I ever heard you say was my name, you don’t think that meant something to me?”

The silence that followed was thick. “I…” Minghao sounded just as uncomfortable as Mingyu felt. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have...we shouldn’t have done that.”

Even though he’d been expecting it, it didn’t hurt less to hear it. “A mistake,” Mingyu said slowly. “Wow.” He tried to laugh, but a choked sob interrupted it, and it came out as a terrible, strangled noise. In that moment, everything felt painfully clear, his brain way too sober. “It was never a mistake to me. Before all of that shit went down, that was the best fucking day of my life, did you know that?”

He sat in silence while Minghao, the world’s most trigger-happy idiot, figured it out. Mingyu could hear it when he did, the little gasp. He gritted his teeth together. “Oh,” Minghao exhaled. “Oh, my God, Mingyu.”

At Minghao’s realization, all of the drunken rage he’d had flooded out of him, and he slumped forward. “You get it now?” he asked, suddenly feeling more exhausted than anything else.

“Yeah,” said Minghao, and it was soft, like he was trying to play nice. The last thing Mingyu had wanted was Minghao’s pity, but he wasn’t really in a position to get anything else. “Oh, my God.”

It was beyond Mingyu to expect an apology from Minghao. Minghao never regretted things he did, even when they were bad.  _ It’s a learning experience _ , he always said to Mingyu, even when he made mistakes during missions or dropped a glass. This was a lot more than a messed up piece code, but Minghao’s principles applied to everything. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.” Mingyu tapped a rhythm to some tuneless song against his knees, trying to get himself to calm down. “Can’t be in love with a dead man, can I?”

“Mingyu.” Minghao’s voice was just next to admonishing, but a little muted and a lot sadder.

“What? Don’t want me reminding you that you’re going to die?” Mingyu’s hands didn’t stop tapping. “It’s the only reason I’m here. Makes me feel better about myself.”  _ No it didn’t. _

“I already know I’m going to die,” said Minghao, and he sounded so resigned about it, he wondered what else had been happening to Minghao while Mingyu wasn’t around. Had there been interrogations? Torture? He couldn’t imagine that Han hadn’t been to see him already, outside of the Public Humiliation and the trial. “I don’t need any reminders.”

He needed another bottle of vodka when he got back to his room. Or maybe five. Enough to forget whatever he was blabbering about. “It’s...whatever. It should be in the past now, shouldn’t it? Everything? I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t even be talking to you at all.” He stood up, practically falling over if not for him balancing on the wall. “I’m leaving now. One of these days I’m going to stop coming back. I don’t know when that’ll be, though. We all have things to regret, don’t we?”

He passed out as soon as he fell onto his bed. Maybe when he woke up, he hoped, all of this shit would pass and he could go back to how things used to be. Without Minghao.

~

**THEN**

Mingyu couldn’t tell what time it was when he woke up, but what he could tell was that his head was pounding like the beat of a marching band and that his bed was empty. 

He groaned, rolling over and trying to gain some more bearing of his surroundings, but his vision was kind of foggy and he was still half-asleep, so he focused on trying to stand up without falling over and made his way to the bathroom. He couldn’t tell where Minghao was from the back bedroom, but he figured he was probably in the cockpit room, getting ready to leave. 

As Mingyu washed his face and brushed his teeth, he could see the state of himself in the mirror. There was a ring of bruises around his neck branding him like a collar, and marks in the shape of fingers on his chest, right above his heart. If he looked harder, he could probably see bruises on his inner thighs and over his hip bones. He only had brief memories of what had happened the night before, but he must have had a pretty good time, if his body was any indication. 

Speaking of the night before, where was Minghao?

“Minghao?” he called out from the bathroom. No answer. He pulled on pants and a shirt as he went outside, almost opting to go basically naked to see if that would pull Minghao’s attention. Was that how they were going to be from now on? Were they partners who occasionally fuck? Or was something more going on?

He hoped it was the latter.

He went into the cockpit room, but it was empty. Where the fuck was Minghao? He couldn’t have left the ship, could he? They were still in the middle of space...or were they? 

Mingyu looked out the window, and to his utter shock, the ship was parked in an actual shipyard. Mingyu could see the signs outside were in Chinese. What the fuck happened last night? How did he manage to get to China? What hadn’t he remembered? Where the actual fuck was Minghao?

He racked his brain for information on China, though his knowledge on Earthen countries was a little rusty from years of trade with other planets, and he’d never been good at Chinese, not as good as Minghao. Besides, his head still hurt like a bitch, and the last thing he wanted to do was think. Could he ask someone in the shipyard where Minghao was? Probably not. Besides, he was riding in a Thief Union ship, so it wasn’t really like anyone would be too inclined to help him. Could he try to go find Minghao himself? He probably couldn’t do that either, since wherever he was was probably too big and he’d get lost. 

Looking at the control panel of the ship, Mingyu picked up the mic. Maybe Minghao was out getting food or something, and he might’ve had his earpiece on. “Minghao?” he said into the mic. No response. “Minghao, just tell me if you’re okay.” Nothing. 

There was no reason to panic, right? Right? “Minghao,” he said, a little more urgently. “How did we get here? Did you fly us here? Where are you?” All he could hear was the humming of the oxygen machine.

He took a deep breath, tried to think of the techniques Han taught him whenever he was stressed on a late-night solo mission.  _ Focus,  _ he’d always said.  _ Don’t think about anything else. Not about your friends, or your family, or your homework, or your classes. Just focus on me, and this mission _ . 

So he focused, or at least tried to. He left Minghao a few messages (no response), called him (sent to voicemail). Nothing, nothing, nothing. And after a while had passed, and he was getting worried that someone who wasn’t supposed to see them would find the ship, Mingyu called comms. 

“Joshua?” He hoped he didn’t sound as frantic as he felt. Minghao had never disappeared like this, not without a note or a call or a text or  _ something _ . What if Minghao had gone outside and gotten kidnapped or he was in danger? What if he’d been so freaked out when he woke up in Mingyu’s bed that he literally up and ran away? What if Minghao had thought everything that had happened the night before had been a mistake? 

Despite Han’s best efforts, Mingyu had never been good at stopping his mind from wandering.

“What’s up, Mingyu?” Joshua asked. “Is everything okay with your mission?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s, um, it’s fine,” Mingyu rambled, drumming his fingers on the control panel. “Can you do me a favor?”

He could sense Joshua frowning in confusion, even though he couldn’t see him. “Sure. What do you need?”

There was no intelligent way, really, to go about it. “Can you check the tracking device and tell me where Minghao is?”

There was a short pause. “You want me to tell you where your own ship partner is? Is Minghao in danger?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mingyu sighed. “I woke up this morning, and he was gone. Can you tell me where he is?”

Joshua’s voice sounded more concerned than incredulous, then. “Yeah, sure, I can do that.” 

Mingyu heard the sounds of Joshua’s fingers typing away at the keyboard for a few seconds. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his uniform while he waited. Finally, Joshua made a little confused noise. “What’s wrong?” he asked, picking at a loose thread.

“The tracker says he’s on your ship.”

“He’s not on the ship, I can promise you that.” 

Joshua was back to sounding skeptical. “Are you sure? Have you checked every room?”

Mingyu gave another sigh, this time in impatience. He could feel fear crawling up his veins and setting his body on fire. “Yes, yes, I have. There aren’t a lot of rooms in the ship. I’ve checked the engines, and the reactors, and the storage, and I’ve called him and texted him and tried the earpiece.” 

“Okay, okay,” said Joshua, sounding defensive. “I didn’t mean to imply that you hadn’t been looking. But why would he have left his tracker in the ship, then? And where did he leave it?”

Mingyu let out a loud groan into his fists, clenched so hard his knuckles were white. “Isn’t regulating the tracker supposed to be your job?”

“Well, yes,” said Joshua, “but he’s also your partner. How could you not know where he was going or why he left the tracker?”

“I don’t know,” said Mingyu, starting to panic. “I don’t fucking know. I woke up and I was in a shipyard in the middle of China and I can’t find him, and I don’t know what to do and—”

“Wait.” Joshua sounded rather alarmed. “You woke up in a different place than where you started?”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaimed. “I’ve been assuming that Minghao flew the ship while I was sleeping, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t have told me. I have no idea how to get out of here and someone’s going to notice me—”

It couldn’t have possibly been a coincidence that someone dressed in an important-looking uniform walked in front of the window, signaling to open the door. From the looks of it, it was a government official. Why had Minghao put him in a shipyard with government officials? Was he trying to get them killed?

“I have to go,” Mingyu said abruptly. “Someone’s coming.” 

He hoped to get the element of surprise by rearing the engines and backing out, seeing that there were no ships behind him, but he doubted the official was the only one looking out for the ship. He and Minghao had been in situations like this one before, where there were helicopters and other ships waiting just outside the shipyard for them to emerge. 

Normally, he and Minghao would be able to face this with ease, but this time, he was alone, and without someone to man the blasters at the same time in case he needed it.

_ Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic _ , he thought to himself as he turned the engines on, the ship starting to slowly rise out of its spot. The official, despite the way the heat and energy coming out of the ship was blowing him back, raised a smoke gun and fired it, a loud screech accompanying it. As soon as the signal went, three ships appeared over the shipyard, casting dark shadows over the rest of the ships in the area. He bet there were more waiting outside the walls, not on active duty, but ready to go if the three ships needed more backup. Fucking hell.

Even though he didn’t want to leave Minghao in China in case there was something wrong, he hoped optimistically that he could come back and get him later if Mingyu got out alive. He kept low over the other ships in the yard, just over them, so that the ships wouldn’t be inclined to shoot him in case they shot the other ships by accident. 

He checked perimeters. The shipyard was a large, outdoor space with a tall wall encircling the area. There was one exit for pedestrians and smaller vehicles, but he couldn’t get through there without turning the ship on its side, which could be risky. The three ships were blocking the way up, and even if he was able to dodge them all on the way out, there was no way he was going to get past them without getting shot down. The wall, judging by its thickness, wasn’t a great option, either, since getting through the wall could lead to serious damages. 

Well, here went nothing.

There wasn’t a lot of time to think, since the ships were starting to close in on him, but he tried.  _ What would Han do,  _ he thought to himself, but that was useless. Han  _ wouldn’t  _ have gotten himself in this position, wouldn’t have let his partner just vanish without a fight. Time for some innovation. 

The blasters were on the other side of the control panel (the ship was meant for two, after all), so Mingyu reached as far as his arms could go towards the blaster control panel, and fired the blasters into the side wall of the yard. The wall was blasterproof, which he expected, but the barrage had alerted the attention of the ships guarding above. Two of the ships began advancing faster. As they charged the ship, trying to back him into the wall, Mingyu turned the ship against the wall so that the front was pointing down and flipped the ship into reverse, backing out, rising upwards out of the shipyard, barely missing another round of shots from the enemy ships. Once he was finally out, he revved the engines and started speeding away as fast as possible, the small fleet of government ships in hot pursuit. 

_ Where could he go? _ he thought. Pledis, the Thief Union headquarters, was several days away, so it wasn’t like he could just go back. There were a few Thief Union-controlled outposts, but nothing on Earth. Mingyu barrel-rolled the ship to the right to dodge more incoming shots, narrowly missing a skyscraper. There wasn’t a lot of time to plug in GPS coordinates, since although  _ Metric  _ was a good ship, faster than most government ones, he was outnumbered and bound to get shot down if he didn’t think of something. 

He reached over to the blasters again, firing a few shots out of the secret blasters in the back and taking out one of the ships in the fleet, which was slowly growing bigger as the officials started alerting each other of a Thief Union intruder. He fired a few more times while he kept control of the ship with the other hand, getting two, three, four ships out of the way, some of them colliding with the others. If Han could see him, he would’ve been proud.

In the rearview camera, he could see there was only one ship left. He shot back, but the ship dodged easily. Maybe this wouldn’t be as simple as he’d hoped.

He quickly checked his phone, then, to see if there was anything from Minghao. 

_ Minghao  _ (just now):   
I’m sorry.

Mingyu’s heart stopped right in his chest. Minghao never apologized for anything. What did he have to apologize for? A lot of things, really, but why now? He hit the call button as fast as he could, almost knocking his phone off the dash, setting it on speaker. After five rings, Minghao picked up. 

“What the fuck, Minghao?” Mingyu seethed angrily once he heard Minghao’s breath on the other end of the line. “Where the fuck are you? Why did you drive us to a fucking Chinese government shipyard?”

“I’m sorry, Mingyu.”

“Why are you sorry? Where are you?”

Minghao sighed, like Mingyu was acting dense. Maybe he was. “I’m with the Chinese government, Mingyu.”

Mingyu narrowly avoided another shot from behind. He was optimistic that the officials didn’t actually want to kill him, they didn’t have proof of any crimes, but it still wasn’t looking good. “Then get out. You know how to escape.”

“No, Mingyu, it’s not like that.” Minghao inhaled deep, loud enough that it was audible over the phone. Like he was preparing himself for something. 

“I turned myself in,” Minghao said finally. “I’m leaving the Union.”

Mingyu laughed, but it felt forced. It didn’t feel like a joke; Minghao had sounded dead serious. “What are you talking about?”

There was a pause. Even with the sounds of shots from the lone government ship ringing in the background outside the ship, it felt like everything stood still. 

“I’m leaving the Union and moving to Earth,” Minghao said softly, like he was treading lightly. This was not normal. Minghao never  _ treaded _ anywhere. “That’s why we went to China.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mingyu, shaking his head to himself. Inside, he felt himself slowly realizing the answer. He didn’t want to say it, and he couldn’t. He didn’t want to believe it, and he couldn’t do that, either. “No, you’re not. We’re partners. You can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Mingyu.”

Suddenly, it was hard to focus on flying. Mingyu’s head felt like someone had poured ice water onto it, and he couldn’t breathe. He felt a shiver go down his spine. He felt...he didn’t know. Everything at once, yet nothing at all. 

It all made sense, the way Minghao had acted, had looked at him, had touched him last night, the disappearance. It all made sense, yet somehow, it didn’t at all. 

“No, you’re fucking not,” he spat. His right hand tightened on the edge of the control panel and the left clutched the steering functions, close to shaking.

Minghao was infuriatingly calm. He always was. “Yes, I am,” he said gently, placating. As if anything like this could ever be just cast aside like it was nothing. “It’s already been done.”

“Is someone making you say this? Do I need to go rescue you?”

“No,” said Minghao. “I’ve...I’ve been thinking about this for a while, actually.”

It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a fucking joke. 

He didn’t realize he’d let go of the controls when a shot grazed the side of the ship, sending it careening dangerously close to a building. His breathing had picked up, heart hammering. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. Was he dreaming? Was this really happening? Minghao was leaving the Union. Minghao had left the Union. Minghao had left the Union, and he hadn’t said anything until now.

“Mingyu?” Minghao’s voice was almost  _ meek _ , like he was worried about what his reaction would be. 

“I thought…”  _ I thought we were going to be something to each other, after last night. I thought we were already something to each other. Weren’t we partners? Had it all been in my head?  _ His entire body felt numb, shock taking over all of his other emotions. He felt like his entire being had shut down. “Nevermind.”

“I’m really sorry, Mingyu.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice cracked at the end of it. There was something building up inside of him, screaming in pain like some sort of ghoul, tearing his insides into shreds. Heat built up behind his eyes. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.”

“Mingyu…”

Mingyu hung up. He couldn’t fucking think. Not about Minghao, not about him betraying him, not about the ships chasing him down through the streets of Shanghai. Everything hurt.  _ Was it my fault? I thought everything was fine. What changed? _

_ What did I do wrong? _

He should report it when (if) he got back to base, right? Would they think he was suspicious, too? How couldn’t he have known? He’d heard of people in the Thief Union breaking the contract and giving data and information to various governments, but it had always made sense when the news broke out. It was justifiable, the man who had always lurked in the corners during Union-wide meetings, or the girl who had logged hundred-hour flight weeks but seemed to never be on a mission.

Minghao leaving the Union had been unexpected, the kind of unexpected that sends you reeling, makes you feel like you were suddenly thrown across the room, head banging into the wall. 

He was still thinking about it when the ship behind him fired a single shot, clipping the back wing of the ship and the force of it sending the ship into a building with a  _ crash!  _ and debris flying everywhere. The collision was strong enough that Mingyu needed to grab onto the control panel so he wouldn’t fall out of his chair. The distraction was just enough that the ship was able to shoot out the right engine, effectively cutting his speed down significantly. Alarms started beeping all over the cockpit room:  _ engine down, engine down.  _ Maybe the officials were looking to kill him after all. Shit.

He kept the ship low, still, a few feet above the cars, and once he saw an intersection, he turned right as hard as he could, hoping his drifting capabilities could still work, but the ship behind him turned right with him. This was bad. This was really, really bad. 

He saw a shot coming in the rearview camera, flipping the ship on its side and staying close to the buildings to dodge it. There was no escape, really. He was down an engine, with no time for repairs. He didn’t have time to use the blasters like before, since he no longer had a speed advantage.

Maybe Minghao would’ve known what to do. But Mingyu didn’t. Minghao also knew when to quit in impossible situations, letting himself get caught, and then escape. Han had always said never to give up, and so Mingyu never did.

The ship behind fired one more shot, straight into the left engine, and Mingyu could see the end, right there. The ship groaned like a dying animal, careened up, then to the sides, and then straight down and—

_ Minghao _ , he thought, as he felt his vision go black.

~

**NOW**

Mingyu was in his room, trying to get rid of his hangover by chugging water, when Han walked in, uninvited. Surprised, he choked on the water, coughing violently. Han did not look sympathetic.

“Leader Han,” said Mingyu, setting down the water bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good morning.”

Han sat down on Mingyu’s little desk, crossing one leg over the other. He did not return salutations. Instead, he stuck his hand into one of his gigantic coat pockets and pulled out a flask. Mingyu’s flask. Oh, shit.

“Care to explain yourself?” asked Han, setting the flask down on the desk. 

“I was…” Mingyu tried to think of a good excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. “I was getting closure.”

Han hummed. “Then why did you turn off all of the cameras and mics?”

He felt his shoulders curling up, like he was a child getting scolded by his father. It wasn’t too far off. “I didn’t think you’d want me there.”

“Damn right, I don’t.” He sounded mad now, which he seemed to do more often, ever since Mingyu stopped giving a shit about being a thief. “I thought I told you not to go down there.”

Mingyu crossed his arms, reaching for the flask, which Han pulled just out of his reach. “No, you didn’t,” he replied, just to be contrary. “Not explicitly, anyway.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re going to act like you’re six now? Do I need to put up a little sign next to your bed labeling ground rules?”

He tried not to flinch. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“What did he tell you?” Han asked. “Anything about whatever the hell’s going on on Earth? With their anti-Thief Union initiative or whatever?”

Of course, that was what Han thought Mingyu was visiting Minghao for,  _ information.  _ That was what he should’ve been visiting Minghao for, anyway. “I don’t know. I was drunk.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Mingyu.” The look on Han’s face was patronizing, even worse than Minghao. “You and I both know that this wasn’t the first time you’d been down there. It’s just the first time I had big evidence.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, what did he say? Did he try to dig up fake shit about me?”

He thought about Minghao’s words a few nights ago, about being tied to a chair and berated, or being compared incessantly to the others. He couldn’t even begin to try to figure out if it was really true, although it wasn’t like Minghao to talk about personal stuff if he wasn’t telling the truth. “Nothing, I promise.” He tried to reassure Han instead. “I wanted an apology. Or an explanation. He didn’t have either. It’s done now.”

Han looked right into his eyes for a long, long moment. Back in Minghao’s cell, he had squirmed and broken under the pressure. He hated how Han could do the exact same thing. Mingyu knew he was being read, knew that Han could read him better than anyone, besides Minghao. Even years after graduation, everything with Han still felt like a test, and Mingyu, the teacher’s pet, was still trying to win extra points. “I thought we had a plan with this.”

“A plan with what?”

“It’s been a very long time since it happened,” said Han, like Mingyu hadn’t been counting the days. “I don’t want you to be slipping back down this hill again. It did enough to us the first time.”

_ Us.  _ Minghao was right. Mingyu and Han, at some point, had become one entity. A chill went down his spine at the thought of him being Han when he was older, laying down punishments, humiliating traitors on a public stage. Is that what he wanted for himself? 

“I’m not slipping.” He felt defensive, more than he wished he was. Obviously he’d been slipping—he’d been slipping since the moment he saw Minghao get off the ship. What would things be like now if he had really moved on? Maybe he would have agreed to be the one to pull the trigger on Minghao’s head. “There’s nothing to slip from. It’s under control.”

Han stared at him for a long, long moment. It was almost as if Mingyu was the one on the verdict stage, not Minghao. “I don’t like whatever you’re doing right now,” Han finally said, pointing his finger at Mingyu like some old-timer. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Why would I lie? What would it matter? He’s dying anyway.” Now that he was sober, the words came out like bile, making his mouth almost burn as he said them, each syllable feeling like lead on his tongue. It felt even worse knowing that he was feeding into Han’s playbook, saying the things he knew Han wanted him to say. Before Minghao had said anything, he’d never thought about how much he seemed like a pawn. Now, it was all that was on his mind.

“That’s a good question, Mingyu,” Han replied, his head nodding approvingly, just a little. On instinct, he felt a little rush at the positive reinforcement. Good lord, he really was under Han’s control, wasn’t he? Minghao had been right, of course he had been. “Why would you be lying?”

Leave it to Han to try to play mind games with him. He weighed his options. Which would be better, telling the truth, trying to fabricate another lie, trying to enter a circular discussion on hypotheticals? “I asked him if he regretted anything he did, and he said no,” he started quietly. All lies were based on truth, after all. “I asked if he’d ever cared about me, and he said that he had, but that he’d needed to make a decision.”

Han looked interested now, and slightly more appeased at Mingyu’s compliance. “And?”

Minghao had always been better at lying, both to him and on the mission. Mingyu had always been trying to keep up with him. It was even harder than already lying to Han, lying about Minghao. “And then he asked if I would’ve joined him had I known what he was doing,” he said, keeping his eyes on the floor, “and I said no, of course not, but he wouldn’t drop it. He thinks I would’ve gone with him had I known about it, and that’s his only “sorrow” about the whole thing.”

It seemed like that was a satisfactory-enough answer for Han, who looked more curious than mad now. “So, why did you keep coming back?”

Even if he had been telling the truth about what Minghao had said to him, Mingyu still wouldn’t have known the answer. “I guess...I wanted him to give me a different answer. But his mind was already made up.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have, I know. But now that he’s here, it’s hard to think about anything else.”

Han nodded in understanding. “It’s okay, Mingyu,” he said gently, or as gently as a notorious thief boss could ever really sound. “It’s going to be all over soon. You won’t have to worry about it after tomorrow.” He stood up, finally pushing the flask back to Mingyu.

“I really am sorry, sir.”  _ No, I’m not.  _ “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“Me too, son, me too.” Before he closed the door behind him, Han turned back. “And Mingyu? Maybe when this is over and done with, we can look at getting you another partner. We can’t have the next leader of the Thief Union in a shitty solo ship, can we?”

The room wasn’t really big enough for the door to echo when it shut, but Mingyu still heard it in his head, vibrating through his already-throbbing skull.

Another partner? He couldn’t even think about having anyone else on his ship other than Minghao. Would he and his partner do all of the things he and Minghao used to do, the wine and movie nights, the long days in the cockpit room just talking about nothing? Minghao was the only other person who seemed to just  _ belong  _ on the ship. Even Han, who  _ owned  _ all of the ships, had felt like a visitor. He couldn’t just replace Minghao like that, even if Minghao didn’t want to fill that spot anymore, either.

_ One more day _ , he thought to himself.  _ I can make it through one more day.  _ Couldn’t he? One more day, and Minghao would be out of his life. He wouldn’t have to worry about Minghao anymore, where he was, whether he was safe, since he would know exactly where he was.

Or where he used to be, he supposed. 

He could sleep without thinking about Minghao when he was out on missions, without trying to imagine what things would be like if he had been there with him, because Minghao wouldn’t be there, on his side or on the other. He could get to have a new partner, one he knew would never leave, one who was smart and strong. Someone who wanted to be a thief.

Was that what he was supposed to want?

When had that stopped being what he wanted?

Somehow, through his words hissed from the corner of his cell, Minghao had changed him, or convinced him, or manipulated him. What was the difference? He didn’t know. Nothing he took for granted, not Han, not Minghao, not the fucking Thief Union logo on every piece of stationery and furniture and clothing he owned, seemed the same anymore, not since the day Minghao came back. If he really wanted to think about it, it hadn’t been the same since Minghao left the first time, either.

Maybe that was why he had kept coming back to see Minghao. Not because he really wanted closure. He already knew what Minghao was going to say about it, even if he hadn’t heard about whatever Han had done to him. Maybe it was just the idea of Minghao being alive, right there next to him, that made him keep coming back again and again. The more he yelled at Minghao, the easier it was to ignore the fact that Minghao was a dead man sitting in a prison cell, just waiting to receive the final blow. The more Minghao yelled at him, called him weak and a fool and a pawn, the more he seemed like a real person and less a drunken vision or a mirage. The more Mingyu was just  _ there  _ with Minghao, the more everything in his life felt  _ right  _ again, like they were meant to be together, even if Minghao hated him.

_ That  _ was what felt real, not the vision Han had for him, with the new partner and the shiny new ship meant for two and the high Thief Union status. Not the fancy office or the big gavel or the adoring thieves staring up at him onstage. It wasn’t like he had gotten there on his own, anyway. 

And now, he felt like he was right in the middle of a huge scale, and he felt a decision hurtling towards him at full throttle, and he didn’t want to make it. Time was running out.

What did he want? Did he want Minghao to be alive? Did he want to be with Minghao? Did he want to be the leader of the Thief Union? Did he want a replacement for what he had lost?

Did he want to be with Minghao more than he wanted to be the person Han wanted him to be?

Han had always told Mingyu never to bow down to others. Maybe it was time Mingyu stopped bowing down to Han, too.

The flask Han had passed back to him was sweaty from how long and hard he had been holding it. Mingyu set it on the table and stood up.

And he made a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh fun spacey partner times next chapter.
> 
> Also, as a sidenote, please don't expect any realistic sci-fi in this fic. I understand that this is sci-fi, but this is more of a self-indulgent fic than a polished thing.
> 
> I'll be working on a couple of other fics for the rest of the this month and for December, but hopefully the next chapter will be done by the end of December or January! Thank you for sticking with me.
> 
> Twitter: @Mid_SwordsDance | Tumblr: @midnightswordsdance

**Author's Note:**

> In case you figured it out, yes, Han is Han Seong su, the CEO of Pled*s, and no, I do not like him very much.
> 
> Also, thanks to justagaybean for betaing! (I don’t know how to put hyperlinks in AO3 but go check out her stuff it’s pretty neat)
> 
> You can find me at midnightswordsdance on Tumblr and at @Mid_SwordsDance on Twitter.


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